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'It's  tough  to  be  poor."— Act  II. 


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A  HARD-LUCK  STORY  BY 
HENRY  M.  BLOSSOM  Jr. 


GROSSET     &     DUN  LAP 
PUBLISHERS:    NEW    YORK 


COPYRIGHT,     1896,    BY 
HERBERT  S.  STONE  fe  CO. 


TO    MY    FRIEND, 

ELLIS  WAINWRIGHTo 


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I  had  never  before  attended  the  races. 
"  The  sport  of  kings  "  is  not  popular  in 
Boston,  my  former  home,  but  here  in  Chi 
cago  every  one  turns  out  on  Derby  Day,  if 
at  no  other  time.  And  so,  catching  some 
thing  of  the  general  enthusiasm,  my  friend 
Murray  Jameson,  who  by  the  way  is  some 
thing  of  a  sport,  and  I,  who  by  the  same 
token  am  not,  found  ourselves  driving  a 
very  smart  trap  out  Michigan  avenue, 
amidst  a  throng  of  coaches,  cabs,  breaks 
and  buggies,  people  and  conveyances  of 
every  description — beautiful  women  beau 
tifully  costumed,  young  men,  business  men, 
toughs  and  wantons — all  on  their  way  to 
Washington  Park,  and  all  in  a  fever  of 


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excitement  over  the  big  race  to  be  run  that 
afternoon — the  great  American  Derby. 

"Now  Jack,"  said  Murray,  as  in  due 
process  we  reached  our  box  and  sat  gazing 
at  the  crowds  about  and  below  us,  "it 
strikes  me  that  we  should  have  a  small  bet 
of  some  sort  on  the  different  races,  just  to 
liven  things  up  a  bit.  What  say  we  go 
down  into  the  betting  ring  and  have  a  look 
at  the  odds  ?" 

"As  you  like,"  I  answered,  rising  to 
show  my  willingness;  "but  you  will  have 
to  do  the  necessary,  I  do  n't  know  one 
horse  from  another." 

"  The  less  you  know  the  more  apt  you 
are  to  win,"  said  Muriay  airily;  "but  if 
you  say  so,  I  '11  make  one  bet  for  both  of 
as,  share  and  share  alike.  No  plunging 
goes  to-day  though,  Jack;  we  do  n't  want 
to  gamble.  We  '11  have  up  a  couple  of 
dollars,  just  to  focalize  the  interest.  If  we 
lose  it  won't  amount  to  much,  and  if  we 
ivin — we  win. 

"  But  just  a  word  of  warning  before  we 
go  down.  Keep  your  eye  on  your  watch 


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and  your  money,  or  you'  11  get  'touched;' 
and  if  we  should  chance  to  be  separated  in 
a  crowd,  be  careful  not  to  let  anyone 
1  tout '  you." 

Now,  if  there  's  one  thing  I  am  especially 
proud  of,  it  is  my  ability  to  take  care  of 
myself  in  any  company,  and  Murray's  pat 
ronizing  manner,  in  view  of  my  professed 
ignorance,  rather  galled  me. 

"  The  man  who  gets  my  watch  or  money 
fe  welcome  to  it,"  I  answered  shortly,  but 
toning  my  coat  about  me  as  we  walked 
ftlong;  "and  as  for  being  'touted' — well, 
t  '11  try  to  take  care  of  that." 

Whether  to  be  '  touted '  was  to  be  held 
ftp,  buncoed,  or  drugged  and  robbed,  I 
had  no  definite  notion;  but  I  took  it  to  be 
a  confidence  game  of  some  sort  and  des 
pised  it  accordingly. 

Just  here,  following  Murray,  I  elbowed 
my  way  into  the  hottest,  best-natured, 
most  conglomerate  crowd  it  was  ever  my 
lot  to  mingle  with.  Merchants,  clerks  and 
gilded  youths,  laborers,  gamblers,  negroes, 
ind  what-not,  money  in  hand,  pushed, 


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pulled  and  trod  upon  each  other  indis 
criminately  in  their  efforts  to  reach  the 
betting  stands. 

The  book-makers,  ranged  along  in  rows, 
stood  on  little  platforms  in  front  of  their 
booths,  taking  the  crowd's  money  and 
calling  out  the  amount  and  nature  of  each 
bet  to  assistants  within  who  scratched  off 
and  registered  corresponding  pool-tickets 
which  were  quickly  returned  to  the  strug 
gling  bettors. 

On  a  blackboard  at  the  end  of  each 
booth  were  posted  the  names  of  the  horses 
with  their  jockeys.  Against  these  names 
the  book-makers  chalked  up  their  figures, 
increasing  or  lessening  the  odds  from  time 
to  time  as  the  different  horses  were  fancied 
or  neglected  in  the  betting. 

"  There 's  nothing  in  this  race  but  Maid 
Marian,"  said  Murray,  scanning  the  black 
boards  critically  ;  "but  4  to  5  is  the  best  I  see 
on  her,  and  I  want  even  money  or  nothing" 
— the  which  was  largely  Greek  to  me  until 
by  questioning  and  deduction  I  found  the 
situation  in  English  to  be  as  follows: 


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Maid  Marian  was  judged  on  breeding 
and  past  performance  to  be  much  the  best 
horse  in  the  race,  so  much  so  that  although 
about  to  run  with  five  or  six  other  racers, 
the  book-makers  demanded  odds  from 
those  who  bet  on  her  in  the  ratio  of  5  to  4. 

When  I  asked  Murray  why  they  did  not 
offer  $  i  to  $1.25  he  replied  that  "  halves 
and  quarters  did  n't  go,"  and  pointed  out 
a  sign  which  read:  "  No  bets  taken  under 
$5."  There  were  several  smaller  "books," 
however,  which  took  $2  bets,  and  did  a 
thriving  business. 

The  crowd  by  this  time  had  become 
absolutely  dense.  Murray  was  suddenly 
dragged  away  by  a  current  in  the  mob 
which  set  towards  a  book-maker  who  had 
chalked  up  "  even  money,  Maid  Marian." 

I  followed  long  enough  to  see  the 
"booky"  change  again  to  "4  to  5"  before 
Murray  reached  him;  and  then,  believing 
myself  about  to  be  crushed  to  death,  I 
forced  my  way  to  the  edge  of  the  ring  and 
stood  hoping  that  my  friend  would  do 
likewise. 


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A  very  "  horsey "  individual,  wearing  an 
owner's  badge,  and  a  most  disreputable- 
looking  negro  were  discussing  the  forth 
coming  race  just  behind  me. 

'*  Dat  Maid  Marian  ain't  got  no  license 
to  win  dis  race  —  a  mile  's  too  fah  fo*  her, 
Buah,"  said  the  darkey.  "  Sister  Mary  '11 
win  —  dat  's  who  '11  win." 

"  Naw !  naw  I"  drawled  the  other.  "Sen 
ator  Irby  '11  come  purty  near  gettin'  de  coin, 
wid  Peytonia  fer  an  outside  chance.  I  see 
Peytonia  work  a  mighty  fast  mile  yesterday 
mornin',  and  I  'm  jes'  takin'  a  flyer  on  her 
to  win  today  for  luck." 

I  glanced  at  the  nearest  blackboard — 
Paytonia  200  to  i  !1! 

Would  they  dare  to  lay  such  odds  against 
a  horse  that  had  even  the  slightest  chance 
of  winning  ?  It  seemed  most  unlikely,  and 
yet — I  hesitated.  There  must  be  a  possi 
bility,  or  why  was  the  horse  in  the  race  ? 
My  sporty-looking  friend  had  said  she  was 
fast  and  had  bet  upon  her  himself.  Per 
haps  I  had  chanced  upon  some  inside 
information ;  and,  after  all,  $2  was  no* 


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a  very  serious  matter  whether  I  won  01 
lost. 

I  started  toward  the  betting  stand,  but 
suddenly  stopped  short.  No,  Murray  was 
to  make  one  bet  for  both  of  us,  and  had 
andoubtedly  done  what  he  thought  was 
best  —  I  would  abide  by  his  judgment. 

But  did  he  know  what  I  knew — where 
could  he  be  ? 

The  crowd,  which  was  now  surging  out 
of  the  betting  ring  toward  the  fence  and 
up  into  the  grand  stand,  thinned  out  rap 
idly;  but  I  held  my  place,  hoping  to  catch 
sight  of  Murray. 

"Come  on  here  and  make  your  bets," 
yelled  the  book-makers,  with  whom  busi 
ness  had  begun  to  grow  slack ;  *'  they  're  at 
the  post  —  they  Ml  be  off  in  a  minute.*' 

I  accepted  the  invitation.  Rushing  up 
to  the  nearest  stand,  I  handed  up  two  silver 
dollars.  "Peytonia,"  I  said,  with  all  the 
nonchalance  I  could  assume. 

"  Peytonia,"  repeated  the  book-maker  ; 
"  four  hundred  to  two,"  and  in  a  moment 
more  I  was  the  possessor  of  a  fantastically- 


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colored  piece  of  card-board,  on  which  was 
scribbled  in  pencil  "  Peyt. — 400-2." 

Suddenly  there  was  a  roar  of  excitement 

"They  're  off,"  was  the  cry  from  a  thou 
sand  throats,  and  I  and  the  other  tardy 
ones  rushed  to  find  a  favorable  spot  from 
which  to  view  the  race. 

I  had  n't  time  to  hunt  up  our  box;  so 
making  for  the  fence,  I  forced  my  way  in 
next  to  the  rail  just  as  the  horses,  all  in  a 
bunch,  swung  recklessly  around  the  first 
turn. 

As  the  race  progressed  they  began  to 
string  out,  one  horse  very  clearly  taking 
the  lead. 

"  The  Maid 's  in  front,  Senator  Irby 
second,"  yelled  an  enthusiast  just  beside 
me.  "  Where  's  Sister  Mary?  Maid  Ma 
rian  's  quittin'.  There  's  Flora  Thornton. 
Go  on,  you  Flora.  Maid  Marian  's  out  ol 
it.  The  Senator  's  leadin'.  Flora  is  sec 
ond.  Just  look  at  Peytonia, 

I  leaned  over  the  rail,  my  heart  in  mji 
mouth.  Down  the  stretch  they  came  at  a 
terrible  pace;  some  three  weie  in  front, 


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running  almost  as  one.  In  a  breath 
were  by  us  and  under  the  wire,  but  which 
of  the  three  was  first  I  could  not  deter 
mine. 

Instantly  there  was  a  babel  of  voices,  in 
which  Senator  Irby,  Peytonia  and  Flora 
Thornton  were  severally  declared  to  have 
won,  and  a  general  movement  toward  the 
judges'  stand  was  inaugurated  for  the  pur 
pose  of  learning  "  the  official." 

I  had  scarcely  gone  a  dozen  yards  before 
I  ran  across  Murray,  viciously  elbowing  his 
way  through  the  crowd. 

There  was  something  so  irresistibly 
funny  in  the  expression  of  rueful  chagrin 
which  sat  upon  his  good-natured  face,  that 
I  forgot  my  excitement  and  began  to  laugh 
irr  moderately. 

"  Now,  what  do  jem  think  of  that  for 
luck?"  he  exclaimed  on  catching  sight  of 
me  ;  "  Senator  Irby,  a  stake-horse,  to  be 
beaten  out  by  an  old  dog  like  Peytonia  ? 
It's  enough  to  —  " 

"  Peytonia  !"  I  echoed  breathlessly,  "did 
Peytonia  win  ?" 


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"Of  course  she  won.  Did  n't  you  see 
the  race?" 

For  a  moment  I  simply  could  n't  speak, 
but  clasping  the  tighter  my  precious  ticket, 
I  swallowed  heroically  at  the  lump  in  my 
throat,  while  Murray,  unmindful  of  my 
silence,  continued. 

"  You  see,  Jack,  after  I  left  you,  I  got  it 
straight  from  a  friend  of  mine  that  Maid 
Marian  was  out  of  condition,  which  left 
the  race,  it  seemed  to  me,  a  walk-over  for 
Senator  Irby.  Well,  it  looked  like  a  good 
chance  to  make  a'killin','  and  I  put  twenty 
on  him  at  two  and  a  half  to  one.  Of 
course  I  could  n't  figure  on  getting  nosed 
out  by  a  hundred  to  one  shot,  but  that 's 
the  luck  I  always  play  in.  Well,  I  '11  get 
it  back  on  the  third  race;  I've  got  a 
'cinch'  in  that.  You  understand  though, 
Jack,"  he  added,  stopping  suddenly,  "you 
have  only  a  dollar's  interest  in  the  losing — 
I  had  no  right  to  bet  but  $2,  as  was  origi 
nally  agreed." 

Just  here  I  foresaw  a  peculiar  complica 
tion,  and  I  was  glad  that,  in  my  desire  to 


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appear  properly  nonchalant,  I  had  not  as 
yet  announced  my  good  fortune. 

"Why,  Murray,"  I  exclaimed,  slipping 
my  ticket  into  my  pocket,  "  you  are  abso 
lutely  absurd.  We  agreed  to  share  and 
share  alike  in  the  day's  transactions,  and  I 
shall  insist  upon  it.  Suppose  Senator  Irby 
had  won  instead  of  losing,  would  you  have 
offered  me  but  a  dollar's  interest  in  the 
winning,  simply  because  I  did  n't  know 
you  were  going  to  bet  so  much?" 

"Of  course  not,  you  should  have  had 
your  half;  but  that  is  a  very  different 
thing." 

"  Different  in  result  perhaps,  but  not  in 
principle;  besides,  come  tc  think  of  it,  I 
made  a  little  bet  myself." 

"  You  did  — how  much?  "     . 

"  Oh,  only  $2." 

"Two  dollars,  eh?  Well!  That  makes 
us  twenty-two  out  altogether.  Eleven 
apiece,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  although ' 

"  I  do  insist  upon  it;  so  that's  settled 
and  now " 

"  By  the  way,  Jack,  what  did  you  bet  on  ?' 


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This  was  the  moment  of  my  triumph 
Handing  him  the  ticket  with  an  air  of  as 
sumed  carelessness,  I  covertly  watched 
with  keenest  relish  his  changes  of  expres 
sion,  as  he  ran  the  gamut  of  varied  emotion 
from  idle  indifference  to  supreme  excite 
ment. 

"Jack!  "  he  exclaimed  at  last,  grabbing 
my  arm.  "Jack,  my  boy!  Did  you  know 

"     Just  here  I  laughed  and  gave  the 

thing  away,  and  then  we  both  laughed, 
while  Murray  improvised  superlative  similes 
anent  my  luck,  and  upbraided  me  for  my 
duplicity. 

"Ahem!  two  dollars — twenty-two  out — 
eleven  apiece,  eh,  Murray?"  I  chuckled 
mockingly.  "  Come  on  now,  old  man, 
and  show  me  how  to  cash  this  ticket;" 
end  we  made  our  way  toward  the  betting 
ring. 

We  experienced  no  delay  in  getting  the 
money,  as  not  one  in  a  thousand  had  won 
on  the  race,  and  the  cashiers  at  the  back 
•».f  the  stands  had  little  or  nothing  to  do. 

J   found   great    difficulty,   however,   in 


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making  Murray  accept  his  rightful  half  oi 
the  spoils;  but  out  of  his  own  mouth  I 
judged  him,  and  in  the  end  prevailed. 

The  next  race,  the  second,  we  decided 
not  to  bet  upon,  as  the  horses  were,  accord 
ing  to  Murray,  only  a  lot  of  "  selling- 
platers,"  and  we  needed  a  little  respite 
from  the  crowd. 

So  we  sought  our  box,  and  in  highest 
spirits  sat  watching  the  masses  surge  to  and 
fro,  while  the  freshening  breeze  blew  strong 
and  cool,  and  brought  up  dark  clouds 
which  looked  like  rain. 

"  The  race  after  this  is  the  Derby,  you 
know,"  said  Murray,  glancing  at  his  pro 
gramme.  "  Now  I  do  n't  want  to  influence 
you,  old  man,  but  I  really  believe  that 
Domino  will  win.  He's  the  best  horse  in 
the  race,  and  with  Taral  to  ride  him  he 
ought  to  be  first  under  the  wire.  This 
time,  though,  you  shall  bet  for  yourself,  as 
you  have  the  proverbial  beginner's  luck. 
Ah,  they  're  off  1  By  Jove!  that 's  a  beauti 
ful  start." 

"Selling-platers"   or    not    the   second 


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race   was  a  pretty  one  and   I  enjoyed  it 
thoroughly,  from  start  to  finish. 

Is  there  any  more  pleasurable  or  intensely 
interesting  sight  than  that  of  a  well-ap 
pointed  race  between  a  number  of  sleek- 
limbed  thoroughbreds?  The  multi-colored 
satins  of  the  plucky  little  jockeys,  the 
whitened  fences  and  the  trim  greensward 
lend  a  picturesqueness;  the  buzz  and  hum 
of  the  restless,  pushing,  ill-assorted  crowd 
adds  an  excitement  to  an  ensemble,  in  my 
opinion,  altogether  fascinating. 


II 

And  now  for  the  Derby — the  great  stake 
race  worth  so  many  thousands  of  dollars 
to  the  winner;  the  much-talked-of  race, 
in  which  the  most  noted  horses  in  the 
country,  East  and  West,  were  to  compete 
for  supremacy  in  fleetness  and  endurance, 
and  the  most  celebrated  jockeys  to  vie  with 
each  other  in  their  peculiar  generalship. 

Leaving  our  box,  we  joined  in  the  crush 
and  forced  our  way  into  the  betting-ring. 
The  crowd  was  enormous,  the  interest  in 
tense.  One  had  but  to  listen  fora  moment 
to  hear  every  horse  in  the  race  enthusi- 
ar  tically  spoken  of  as  "  sure  to  win." 

As  it  was  simply  useless  in  that  crush  to 
try  to  keep  together,  Murray  and  I  decided 
to  go  our  several  ways,  and  meet  in  good 
time  at  a  place  agreed  upon. 

Now,  although  I  had  said  nothing  about 

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i8  CHECKERS 

it,  I  had  quite  decided  not  to  bet  upon  this 
event.  I  had  found  the  second  race  upon 
which  I  had  no  bet  infinitely  more  enjoy 
able  than  the  first,  despite  the  good  fortune 
chance  had  thrust  upon  me ;  and  reason 
ably  so,  I  think,  for  with  any  kind  of  a 
wager  up  one's  interest  naturally  centers 
in  the  performance  of  one  horse,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  race,  as  a  race,  is  to  a  great 
extent  lost  sight  of. 

With  something  of  this  idea  in  mind,  I 
stood  watching  the  frantic  efforts  of  the 
crowd  to  reach  the  betting  stands,  wonder 
ing  idly  the  while  where  all  the  money  so 
recklessly  offered  came  from  in  these  days 
of  universal  hard  times,  when  I  was  sud 
denly  accosted  by  an  unknown  youth  who 
asked  to  see  my  programme  for  a  minute, 
explaining  at  the  same  time  that  "some 
guy  had  pinched  his,  coming  through  the 
crowd." 

I  silently  complied. 

He  studied  the  programme  briefly,  smiled 
a  satisfied  smile,  and  returned  it. 

"  There  's  a  good  thing  coming  off  in 


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the  fourth,"  he  remarked  in  a  confidential 
manner.  "If  I  can  see  you  somewhere 
just  before  the  race  I  '11  put  you  on.  It  '11 
be  a  '  hot  one.'  " 

I  thanked  him. 

"The  owner  himself  is  going  to  'put 
me  next,'"  he  continued;  "it'll  be  a 
Mead-pipe.'" 

I  began  to  be  interested.  "  I  should 
like  to  know  it,"  I  replied,  "and  I  will 
wait  for  you  after  the  Derby.  I  may 
not  bet  on  it  myself,  but  I  have  a  friend 
who  doubtless  will,  if  you  will  give  him 
the  information." 

"  I  '11  give  it  to  him  if  he  '11  go  down 
the  line,  but  it 's  going  to  win  a  city  block, 
and  we  ought  to  make  a  killin'  on  it. 
I  went  broke  myself,  on  Senator  Irby,  or 
I  'd  have  gone  home  to-night  with  a  bank 
roll." 

"Well,"  I  replied,  "we  '11  see  when  the 
time  comes.  Now,  what  do  you  fancy  to 
win  the  Derby?" 

He  lighted  a  cigarette  and  puffed  it  a 
moment  in  silence. 


20  CHECKERS 

"It's  a  dead-tough  race,"  he  at  lasv 
remarked,  "and  I  would  n't  play  it  with 
counterfeit  money.  There  's  no  use  in 
playing  any  race  unless  you  've  got  some 
information.  These  geezers  that  play  every 
race  go  broke.  But  it 's  an  easy  game  to 
beat  if  you  just  stay  off  till  you  're  next  to 
something  good,  and  then  plug  it  hard. 
Why,  if  I  could  shake  the  faro-bank  and 
crap-game,  I  'd  have  money  to  burn  ice 
with. 

"V  see,  take  a  big  stake-race  like  this, 
where  every  horse  is  a  'cracker- jack,' 
they  're  all  of  'em  good,  and  they  've  all 
got  a  chance,  and  you  just  take  my  advice 
and  stay  off.  We  Ml  have  something  good 
in  the  fourth  that  we  know,  and  we  just 
won't  do  a  thing  to  it.  Well,  I  must 
hurry  down  to  the  paddocks  to  see  a 
stable  boy  I  know ;  if  I  hear  anything  I  '11 
come  back  and  tell  you.  But  be  sure  and 
be  here  for  the  next  with  your  friend, 
'cause  it 's  all  over  now,  but  cashing  the 
ticket — so  long;"  and  he  dodged  away 
through  the  crowd. 


CHECKERS  21 

Oddly  enough,  it  did  not  at  the  moment 
strike  me  as  in  the  least  peculiar  that  I 
should  have  been  conversing  on  a  basis  ot 
perfect  equality  with  a  companion  of  stable 
boys  and  a  frequenter  of  gambling  hells. 
Nothing  further. 

The  spirit  of  easy,  good-natured  cama 
raderie  was  in  the  very  air;  and  in  the 
singleness  of  purpose  which  animated  all — 
the  picking  of  the  winner — all  ranks  seemed 
leveled,  all  social  barriers  cast  aside. 

Again,  he  had  proved  in  our  few  minutes' 
talk  a  new,  and  to  me  an  interesting,  type; 
and  I  resolved  to  keep  the  appointment, 
if  for  nothing  more  than  to  study  him 
further. 

He  was  a  young  man,  certainly  not  over 
twenty-three,  short,  slight,  and  becomingly 
dressed.  His  face  was  thin,  smooth-shaven 
and  red,  but  somehow  peculiarly  prepos 
sessing.  His  deep  blue  eyes  and  long 
black  lashes  might  have  atoned  for  much 
less  attractive  features;  and  the  lines  which 
ran  from  his  well-shaped  nose  to  the  cor 
ners  of  his  clear  cut  lips  suggested  a  hard 


12  CHECKERS 

lived  life  which  I  afterwards  learned  did 
not  belie  them. 

A  glance  at  my  watch  discovered  the 
fact  that  it  lacked  but  a  few  minutes  of  rny 
appointment  with  Murray,  and  I  began  to 
slowly  edge  my  way  to  the  point  of  our 
rendezvous. 

I  reached  it  promptly  on  the  minute 
and  stood  awaiting  his  tardy  coming,  when 
suddenly  my  arm  was  grasped  and  I  turned 
to  find  my  new  acquaintance. 

He  was  all  excitement  and  breathing 
hard,  as  though  in  the  greatest  possible 
hurry. 

"  Come  here,"  he  said  »n  a  low  quick 
voice ;  and  he  beckoned  me  into  a  quiet 
corner.  "  I  've  been  looking  for  you  every 
where.  Now  listen  a  minute  and  do  n't 
ask  questions;  Domino's  got  a  '  dickey  ' 
leg,  and  he  won't  be  a  thing  but  last. 
Garrison  tells  me  that  Senator  Grady  is 
going  to  win  in  a  common  canter.  Richard 
Croker  's  in  the  ring,  and  the  '  bookies ' 
are  swipin*  it  off  the  boards.  Hurry  and 
get  in  with  your  money  while  there  's  a 


CHECKERS  23 

chance  to  get  the  odds;"  arid  he  started 
into  the  betting  ring  as  though  fully  ex 
pecting  I  would  follow. 

His  manner  was  intensely  earnest,  and 
his  hurried  words  and  furtive  looks  were 
at  once  impressive  and  convincing.  I  felt 
my  latent  sporting  spirit  rising  strong 
again,  and  I  began  the  simple  process  of 
arguing  myself  out  of  my  former  position. 

Some  Frenchman,  I  think,  has  some 
where  said,  "  A  man  is  his  own  worst 
sharper."  However  that  is,  in  an  argu 
ment  with  one's  self  the  other  side  is  usually 
silenced.  And  so  it  chanced  that,  a  few 
minutes  later,  I  again  held  a  penciled 
ticket,  which  this  time  called  for  $60  to  be 
paid  in  the  event  of  certain  contingencies, 
and  for  which  I  had  given  $20  of  my 
former  winnings.  I  had  also  given  my 
Mentor  an  extra  five  to  bet  for  the  boy  from 
whom  he  had  received  such  timely  and 
valuable  information. 

Such  reckless  plunging  I  can  only  ex 
cuse  upon  the  grounds  of  having  been 
forced  into  it;  for  not  the  least  of  this  ver- 


24  CHECKERS 

fcatile  youth's  many  and  varied  gifts  was 
the  power,  not  uncommon  amongst  waiters 
and  shop-keepers,  of  shaming  his  whilom 
client  out  of  anything  approaching  petti 
ness,  by  the  assumption  of  that  air  of 
blended  superiority  and  indifference  we 
have  all  felt  the  force  of  at  times. 

I  had  drawn  forth  my  roll  with  the 
laudable  intention  of  chancing  a  two  or 
perhaps  a  five,  when  I  was  met  with  the 
startling  proposition  that  I  "  bet  fifty  each 
way,  to  win  and  for  place,"  and  this  was 
followed  by  so  convincing  an  array  of  fig 
ures,  weights,  times  and  distances,  that  a 
compromise  of  $20  to  win,  and  a  five-dol 
lar  bet  for  the  boy,  "  who  could  n't  leave 
the  paddocks,  but  had  been  promised  that 
the  right  thing  would  be  done  by  him," 
seemed  the  least  I  could  do,  consistent 
with  my  dignity  and  self-respect. 

And  now  to  hurry  back  to  Murray.  We 
found  him  standing  watch  in  hand,  and  he 
began  to  smile  when  he  saw  my  com 
panion. 

"  Well!  well!  "  he  exclaimed  fr  a  banter- 


CHECKERS  25 

ing  tone;  "  so  you  've  fallen  a  prey  to 
Checkers,  have  you?  What  loser  has  he 
touted  you  onto,  that 's  '  going  to  win  in 
a  walk,  hands  down'  ?  " 

•'Now,  there's  a  guy  that  makes  ms 
sick,"  interrupted  Checkers,  ignoring  the 
question.  "Because  he  dropped  a  couple  of 
'  bones '  not  long  ago  at  the  Harlem  track, 
he  made  a  roar  that 's  echoing  still  between 
this  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  next 
time  I  saw  him  I  gave  him  a  'good  thing  ' 
he  could  have  win  out  on,  but  he  would  n't 
touch  it.  He  don't  know  the  right  way 
around  the  track.  The  book-makers  call 
him  '  Ready-Money ' — he  's  so  easy." 

"Come  off  now,  Checkers,"  laughed 
Murray,  "you  know  you  never  guess  'em 
right ;  the  only  time  your  horses  win  is 
when  the  others  all  fall  down.  But  really, 
]ack,  what  did  you  play  ?  " 

"  I  'm  playing  Senator  Grady,  Murray  j 
oar  friend  here  told  me  he  could  n't  lose." 

"Well,  he  may  be  r'giiV  said  Murray 
thoughtfully,  "but  I  'm  not  playing  the  race 
that  way.  Domino  first,  and  Despot  third, 


26  CHECKERS 

is  the  way  I  figure  it  ought  to  come.  Gracty 
I  think  will  get  the  place,  but  the  odds  are 
better  on  Despot  for  third.  Well,  let's  go 
up  in  the  grand-stand  now,  and  see  them 
all  parade  to  the  post." 

We  chanced  to  find  a  place  for  three,  in 
the  seats  almost  opposite  the  judges' 
stand,  for  I  had  taken  Checkers  with  me 
for  the  pleasure  I  found  in  hearing  him 
talk. 

As  yet  I  had  n't  made  up  my  mind  about 
Checkers,  and  I  was  anxious  to  question 
Murray  privately  conceining  him.  He 
certainly  did  not  look  like  a  "  tout,"  for 
the  meaning  of  the  word  as  applied  to  that 
genus  now  came  to  me.  Rather,  he  seemed 
to  be  playing  a  fantastic  role.  He  played 
it  well,  I  confess,  but  there  was  a  whimsical 
air  about  all  that  he  said  and  did  which 
puzzled  me  greatly.  His  slang,  however, 
was  natural.  Of  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt,  and  he  used  it  with  a  native  grace, 
a  varied  inflection  and  appositeness  which 
made  it  seem  a  part  of  him,  and  therefore 
robbed  it  of  objection. 


CHECKERS  27 

In  fact  I  afterwards  discovered,  and  I 
grew  to  know  him  very  well,  that  in  all  his 
slang  there  was  a  pertinence  which  took  a 
short  cut  to  the  gist  of  things ;  a  humor, 
dry  and  sometimes  broad,  but  never  vulgar, 
and  seldom  profane. 

The  bugle  calling  the  horses  to  the  post 
sounded  soon  after  we  took  our  seats,  and 
shortly  they  began  to  appear  parading  in 
order  past  the  grand-stand. 

Domino,  Dorian  and  Senator  Grady,  the 
three  eastern  horses,  favorites  in  the  bet 
ting,  were  cheered  as  they  passed  to  the 
very  echo;  while  others  of  the  eight  had 
their  many  supporters,  who  had  backed 
their  belief  with  some  share  of  their  wealth, 
at  longer  and  much  more  interesting  odds. 

"There's  the  baby '11  get  the  dough," 
said  Checkers,  as  Senator  Grady  passed. 
"  He' s  the  finest  that  ever  came  over  the 
pike.  How  on  earth  are  they  going  to  beat 
him?" 

I  glanced  at  Murray,  who  simply  smiled 
and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Domino. 

The  horses  were  soon  lined  up  for  the 


28  CHECKERS 

start,  and  after  three  or  four  attempts,  the 
starter  caught  them  well  in  motion,  drop 
ped  the  flag,  and  the  race  was  "off." 

"  Domino  in  the  lead,"  laughed  Murray. 
"  I  hope  he  keeps  it  all  around." 

Checkers  was  muttering  under  his  breath 
some  words  of  —  well,  disapprobation. 

"  Now  look  at  that  start  and  burst  out 
cryin',"  he  groaned  in  a  bitter  tone. 
"  Grady  absolutely  last,  and  Domino  gets 
off  in  front.  That  starter  never  was  any 
good  ;  talk  about  his  startin '  a  race,  why  ! 
that  bloke  could  n't  start  a  fire;"  and  he 
lighted  another  cigarette  by  way  of  partial 
consolation. 

The  horses  were  nearing  the  grand-stand 
now,  which  was  for  them  the  half-mile 
post,  for  the  race  was  to  be  a  mile  and  one- 
half,  or  once  and  one-half  around  the  track. 

Their  positions  had  changed  since  the 
drop  of  the  flag,  for  as  they  passed  us  Al- 
cenor  led,  Resplendent  was  second,  Prince 
Carl  third,  and  Senator  Grady  was  now  a 
good  fourth. 

"Say!    girls,   look    at   Grady,"  yelled 


CHECKERS  iQ 

Checkers  excitedly.  "Why,  he'll  back  in 
by  twenty  lengths.  There's  the  place  to 
have  him  laying,  third  or  fourth,  till  they 
hit  the  stretch  ;  then  Garrison  will  cut  him 
loose,  and  beat  'em  all  in  a  grand-stand 
finish.  Those  dogs  in  front  can 't  hold 
that  pace ;  they  '11  throw  up  their  tails  and 
quit  at  a  mile;"  and  Checkers  puffed  the 
cigarette  between  his  yellow,  smoke-stained 
fingers,  with  a  look  of  placid  unconcern 
which  I  myself  was  far  from  feeling. 

Suddenly  he  jumped  to  his  feet  with  an 
exclamation  of  surprise.  Grady  had  sud 
denly  gone  to  the  front  as  though  the 
others  were  standing  still,  and  it  looked  as 
Ihough  his  jockey,  Garrison,  intended  to 
make  it  a  runaway  race.  At  the  mile  he 
led  by  a  length  and  a  half,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  he  would  surely  win. 

The  crowds  in  their  intense  excitement 
bustled  and  buzzed  like  so  many  bees.  Cries 
of  "Grady!"  filled  the  air,  and  thousands 
yelled  in  frenzied  glee.  I  confess  I  lost  my 
self-control  and  whooped  as  loudly  as  anj 
one. 


3o  CHECKERS 

"D  'ye  see,"  said  Checkers,  "  that 's  what 
it  is  to  have  reliable  information.  Talk 
about  Domino's  winning,  why,  he  can't 
beat  a  fat  man  up  a  hill;"  and  he  cast  a 
pitying  glance  at  Murray,  and  climbed  on 
tos  seat  for  a  better  view. 

Across  the  level  stretch  of  greensward  the 
horses  looked  almost  like  playthings.  Up 
the  back  stretch  on  they  went,  with  Grady 
now  a  length  in  front.  The  others  were 
rapidly  closing  up,  and  the  final  struggle  was 
soon  to  begin.  At  the  further  turn  it  seemed 
to  me  they  slackened  up  for  a  breathing 
spell;  but  on  they  came  again  faster  and 
faster,  with  Grady  but  half  a  length  in  front. 

The  noisy  chatter  suddenly  ceased  and 
an  interested  silence  fell  upon  all.  My 
heart  was  beating  a  wild  tattoo.  I  felt  as 
though  I  were  burning  up. 

Murray  was  wholly  occupied  in  helping 
Domino  along,  by  calling  his  name  in  a  low, 
quick  voice,  and  energetically  snapping  his 
fingers  (a  process  commonly  known  as 
"  pulling,"  and  thought  by  the  cult  to  be 
efficacious). 


CHECKERS  31 

I  glanced  at  Checkers.  Disappointment 
was  clearly  written  across  his  face. 

"We  're  up  against  it,"  he  said  despond 
ently.  "  Garrison  's  give  us  the  double- 
cross.  He  had  no  business  settin'  the  pace. 
There  's  some  one  going  after  him  now. 
Go  on,  you  Grady  1  Wiggle  yourself  / 
They  've  collared  him  1  They  're  passing 
him  ! "  And  sure  enough  some  fleet- 
limbed  bay  was  drawing  ahead  of  our 
beautiful  brown  in  a  way  that  left  us  little 
hope  of  ever  getting  in  front  again. 

Around  the  turn  and  into  the  stretch, 
nearer  they  raced  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  The 
leader  was  gaining  at  every  jump,  but 
Giady  hung  to  second  place.  Taral  now 
called  upon  Domino,  and  at  once  the  colt 
responded  gamely.  But  his  time  had  gone, 
and  the  gallant  horse  that  never  before  had 
lost  a  race  fell  back  with  the  others,  hope 
lessly  beaten,  and  Taral,  seeing  that  all 
was  lost,  pulled  up  and  galloped  slowly 
in.  Martin  on  Despot  came  out  of  the 
bunch,  and,  passing  Prince  Carl,  set  sail 
for  Grady,  while  Garrison,  riding  as  though 


32  CHECKERS 

for  his  life,  made  every  effort  to  hold  his 
own. 

Within  one  hundred  yards  of  the  wire 
the  leader  had  six  lengths  to  spare.  His 
jockey  was  riding  in  leisurely  fashion, 
glancing  around  from  time  to  time,  to 
watch  the  struggle  that  Despot  was  making 
to  wrest  the  place  from  Senator  Grady. 

Whipping  and  spurring  they  thundered 
past  us,  fighting  it  out  to  the  finishing 
post.  By  it  they  flashed,  the  bay  horse 
first,  Grady  second  and  Despot  third.  Gar 
rison's  riding  had  saved  him  the  place,  but 
the  race  had  been  won  by  "a  rank  outsider." 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  crowd  was 
silent — dumb  with  surprise  and  disap 
pointment.  Few,  if  any,  cheered  the 
winner;  thousands  inwardly  cursed  the 
favorites. 

Quickly  the  word  was  passed  along, 
"  Rey  El  Santa  Anita  wins." 

"  Lucky  Baldwin's  horse,"  said  Checkers. 
"  The  odds  were  an  easy  fifty  to  one. 
Grady  second  I  D  'ye  see,  if  you  'd  have 
played  him  for  place  as  I  wanted  you 


CHECKERS  33 

to,  we  *d  have  saved  our  stake.  But  you 
would  n't  'thaw  out,'  and  now  your  ticket 's 
a  souvenir.  We  'd  have  win  as  it  was  with 
a  good  boy  up.  That  settles  Garrison  for 
me.  There  's  a  jockey  that  ought  to  be 
driving  cows  instead  of  riding  a  sprinter 
like  Grady,  and  pumping  him  out  in  the 
first  three-quarters.  Domino  last!  That 
'good  thing.'  Well,  I  knew  from  the  start 
that  he  was  a  '  lobster.' " 

Murray  flushed  up.  "  Well,  any  way,  I 
won  on  Despot  for  third,"  he  said,  "enough 
to  put  me  ahead  on  the  race,  and  cover 
your  losing  on  Grady,  Jack.  But,  Jove, 
what  a  harvest  the  bookies  have  reaped. 
There  were  thousands  of  dollars  bet  on 
Domino  and  the  other  favorites,  and  there 
probably  were  n't  a  dozen  bets  in  all  on 
Rey  El  Santa  Anita.  It 's  a  terrible  thing 
this  gambling,  Jack,  when  you  come  to 
look  it  square  in  the  face.  Just  think  of 
the  money  gone  to  swell  the  pile  of  a  lot 
of  miserable  gamblers,  aod  think  of  the 
poor  deluded  mortals  who  play  this  game 
day  after  day,  constant  in  the  fatuous 


34  CHECKERS 

hope  of  some  day  making  a  brilliant  coup, 
and  squaring  themselves  on  their  years 
of  losing.  Fortune  'jollies'  them  along 
with  temporary  small  successes,  and  having 
gained  their  confidence  proceeds  to  throw 
them  down  the  harder.  Disappointment 
misery,  embezzlement,  suicide,  follow  it  all 
as  effect  follows  cause — and  still  the  game 
goes  on." 

"  Well,  anyway,  I  'm  glad  we  touched 
them,  and  we  '11  take  good  care  that  they 
do  n't  get  it  back.  By  Jove,  it 's  nearly  4 
o'clock.  I  'm  afraid  we  ought  to  be  go 
ing,  Jack.  It 's  a  long  drive  in,  and  recol 
lect  we  have  a  date  for  dinner  to-night. 
Come  on,  I  '11  cash  this  Despot  ticket,  and 
then  we  '11  make  a  start  for  home." 

"Home! "exclaimed  Checkers.  "You're 
not  going  home?  Why  this  is  the  race 
I  've  been  waiting  for.  You  do  n't  want  to 
miss  a  lunch  like  this.  It 's  a  puddin';  it 's 
a  tapioca.  Honest,  it 's  a  regular  gift;  the 
chance  of  your  life  to  make  a  '  killin'." 

But  to  all  his  entreaties  we  lent  a  deaf 
ear  though  he  talked  with  a  masterful  elo- 


CHECKERS  35 

quence.  I  confess,  however,  to  one  more 
weakness.  I  gave  him  a  ten  which  he 
swore  to  return.  (Murray  was  standing  in 
line  with  his  ticket.)  He  said  he  would 
"play  it  carefully,  and  gradually  win  him 
self  out  of  the  hole."  I  felt  at  the  time 
that  I  was  aj'sucker,"  but  somehow  he  had 
a  persuasive  way. 


Ill 

A  number  of  weeks  had  come  and  gone 
ere  I  again  laid  eyes  upon  Checkers,  and 
then  it  chanced  most  unexpectedly. 

I  had  stayed  at  my  office  late  one  even 
ing,  finishing  up  some  odd  jobs  which  I 
had  allowed  to  accumulate.  The  additional 
work  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour  lent  a 
keen  edge  to  my  appetite,  and  I  decided 
to  dine  down  town  and  perhaps  drop  into 
one  of  the  theaters. 

As  I  hastened  along  on  my  way  to  Kins 
ley's  (I  am  not  a  member  of  the  down-town 
clubs)  a  figure  stepped  out  of  a  neighbor 
ing  doorway,  and  brushed  against  me  in 
passing.  It  was  Checkers.  I  knew  him  at 
once.  But  I  gave  no  s;Gn  of  recognition 
and  hoped  to  escape  him  unobserved.  A 
futile  hope,  for  he  knew  me  as  quickly,  and 
in  an  instant  was  by  my  side. 
36 


CHECKERS  37 

"Why,  Mr.  Preston,"  he  exclaimed  grab 
bing  and  shaking  my  passive  hand.  "  Say, 
on  the  dead,  I  'm  glad  to  see  you;  why  is 
it  you  have  n't  been  out  to  the  track?  I  've 
had  '  something  good  '  nearly  every  day. 
I  wish  I  had  seen  you  an  hour  ago.  I  've 
been  playing  '  the  bank,'  and  they  've 
cleaned  me  flat.  They  say  that 's  the 
squarest  game  on  earth,  but  the  cards  do 
run  dead  wrong  for  me.  Where  you  going 
— to  eat?  Well,  say,  as  the  tramp  says, 
'Me  stomach  tinks  me  troat's  cut.'  Back 
me  against  a  supper,  will  you?  It 's  a 
hundred  to  one  I  get  the  best  of  it."  And 
so  he  rattled  on  and  on,  never  waiting  for 
his  questions  to  be  answered,  careless  and 
slangy  as  ever. 

As  I  turned  into  Kinsley's  I  hesitated, 
as  to  whether  simply  to  dismiss  him 
straight,  or  to  give  him  a  dollar  and  tell 
him  to  go  and  satisfy  his  evident  hunger. 
He  saw  me  pause  and  read  my  thoughts, 
but  he  did  not  propose  thus  to  be  dis 
posed  of. 

"Come  on,"  he  said,  starting   quickly 


38  CHECKERS 

ahead  and  entering  the  elevator.  "We  're 
going  up  to  the  cafe",  ain't  we?" 

I  was  greatly  minded  to  turn  on  my  heel 
and  tell  him  to  go  to  the  deuce,  if  he  chose. 
But  his  manner  was  wholly  ingenuous,  and 
"after  all,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I'm  tired 
and  he  's  amusing.  It 's  something  after 
8  o'clock  and  no  one  will  be  here  at  such 
an  hour."  At  all  events  I  disliked  a  scene, 
and  so  I  simply  acquiesced,  and  took  him 
to  a  quiet  corner  of  the  large  dining-room, 
where  I  seated  myself  in  such  a  way  as  to 
have  my  back  to  whomsoever  might  come 
in. 

Without  consulting  the  taste  of  my 
guest,  I  ordered  a  steak  with  mushrooms, 
potatoes,  a  salad,  dessert  and  a  bottle  of 
claret,  and  began  to  read  the  evening 
paper. 

For  perhaps  ten  minutes  we  both  were 
silent.  I  glanced  at  Checkers  several 
times  as  I  folded  my  paper  in  or  out.  He 
seemed  to  be  lost  in  a  reverie.  But  at  last 
his  thoughts  came  back  to  earth,  and  glanc 
ing  up  he  said  very  softly,  "The  last  time 


CHECKERS  39 

I  took  supper  here  was  with  my  wife  a  year 
ago." 

"  Your  wife,"  I  exclaimed,  starting  with 
surprise.  "  You  do  n't  mean  to  tell  me 
you  have  a  wife?  " 

"  I  had  a  wife,"  he  answered  sorrow 
fully,  "but " 

"  I  beg  you  pardon,  Checkers,"  I  said, 
"  I  hope  I  have  n't  hurt  your  feelings." 

"  No,  you  have  n't  hurt  them,"  he  re 
plied.  "I  've  got  my  feelings  educated. 
I  've  had  so  many  ups  and  downs  I  've 
learned  to  take  my  medicine.  But  I  '11  bet 
I  've  had  the  toughest  luck  of  any  guy  that 
ever  lived.  A  year  ago  I  had  money,  a 
wife  and  friends,  and  was  doing  the  Van- 
derbilt  act.  In  two  short  weeks  I  lost  them 
all.  I  've  been  '  on  my  rollers'  ever  since. 

"  But  say,  you  wouldn't  have  known  me  if 
you'd  seen  me  here  with  my  wife  that  time 
— my  glad  rags  on,  a  stove-pipe  lid,  patent 
leather  kicks  and  a  stone  on  my  front.  We 
came  to  Chicago  to  take  in  the  Fair,  and 
dropped  in  here  to  eat,  one  night. 

"We  sat  at  that  table  over  there;  I   re- 


40  CHECKERS 

member  it  as  though  it  was  yesterday.  1 
ordered  all  kinds  of  supper,  and  at  last  the 
waiter  brings  in  some  cheese  and  crackers. 
It  was  a  kind  of  a  greenish,  mouldy  cheese 
. — Rocquefort!  Yes,  I  believe  that 's  it.  I 
goes  against  a  little  piece  of  it,  and  '  on 
the  grave,'  I  like  to  fainted.  Good!  Well, 
maybe  you  think  it's  good,  but  scratch 
your  Uncle  Dudley  out  of  any  race  where 
they  enter  Rocquefort. 

"Yes ;  those  were  happy  days  for  me.  I 
hate  to  think  about  them  now.  I  had  a 
good  time  while  it  lasted,  though,  and  when 
they  got  me  '  on  the  tram,'  I  had  to  go  to 
hustlin'.  Well,  here  comes  supper.  Excuse 
me  now,  while  I  get  busy  with  a  piece  of 
that  steak." 

"  But,  Checkers,"  I  expostulated,  "  I  'd 
like  to  hear  the  particulars.  You  must 
have  an  interesting  story  to  tell.  And  if 
you  don't  mind " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  It's  a  hard  luck 
story.  I've  had  the  hot  end  of  it  most  of 
my  life.  But  you  can  see  for  yourself  that 
I'm  no  'scrub.'  I  come  from  good 


CHECKERS  41 

people,  and  I  've  lived  with  good  people. 
I  can  put  up  a  parlor  talk,  or  a  bar-room 
talk.  I  've  seen  it  all.  But  of  course  when 
a  fellow  'hits  the  toboggan,'  he  gets  to 
going  down  mighty  fast." 

"  I  appreciate  all  that,  my  boy  "  I  said, 
"or  I  shouldn't  have  brought  you  here ; 
and  now  if  you  will,  while  we  are  eating 
our  dinner,  give  me  a  little  sketch  of  how 
it  all  happened." 

"Well,  there  isn't  very  much  to  tell  as  I 
know  of  —  at  least,  anything  that  would  in 
terest  you.  To  look  back  now  it  kind  of 
seems  as  though  things  just  pushed  them 
selves  along. 

"You  see,  in  the  first  place,  my  father 
and  Uncle  Giles,  his  brother,  both  fought 
in  the  war.  Well,  father  got  shot  and  came 
home  a  cripple.  About  ten  years  after 
wards  I  was  born.  Then  father  died,  and 
mother  got  a  pension.  She  had  some  little 
money  besides.  After  the  war  Uncle  Giles 
came  back  and  hung  around  our  house. 
He  was  'flat,'  and  he  couldn't  get  a  job. 
But  he  finally  got  some  pension-shirk  tc, 


42  CHECKERS 

push  a  pension  through  for  him,  arid  after 
that  he  '  pulled  his  freight '  and  went  to 
Baltimore  to  live.  Mother  and  I  stayed 
here  in  Chicago. 

"Well,  I  went  to  school  until  I  was 
twelve,  and  then  I  went  to  work  in  a  store. 
Mother's  health  was  very  bad,  though,  and 
at  last  we  went  South  on  account  of 
her  lungs.  We  went  to  San  Antonio,  and 
at  first  the  air  kind  of  did  her  good.  I 
gets  a  job  in  a  dry  goods  store,  and  things 
are  rollin'  pretty  smooth,  when  one  night 
mother  takes  to  coughing,  has  a  hemor 
rhage  and  dies. 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  tell  you  my 
feelings.  Mother  was  dead  and  I  was 
alone.  There  was  hardly  a  soul  to  come 
to  her  funeral.  The  minister  and  a  few 
of  the  neighbors  came  in  —  my  God,  it  was 
simply  awful.  I  was  still  a  kid,  only  fifteen, 
you  see,  and  I  felt  the  terrible  lonesome- 
ness  of  it. 

"Well,  mother  had  saved  considerable 
money —  twenty-six  hundred  dollars  in  all. 
I  sold  our  furniture  and  came  to  Chicago, 


CHECKERS  43 

and  went  to  board  with  some  friends  of  the 
family.  I  worked  more  or  less  for  two  or 
three  years;  but  my  money  made  me  kind 
of  '  flossy,'  and  whenever  I  'd  feel  like  it, 
I  'd  just  throw  up  the  job  and  quit. 

"  After  a  while  I  got  so  I  did  n't  try  to 
work.  I  fell  in  with  a  gang  of  sports  that 
used  to  hang  around  the  pool-rooms,  and 
pretty  soon  'your  littleWillie'  was  losing  his 
money  right  and  left.  The  local  meeting 
came  along,  and  I  took  to  going  out  to 
the  track.  I  was  nearly  broke  when  one 
day  a  tout  tried  to  '  get  me  down '  on  a 
'good  thing'  he  had.  I  told  him  I 
would  n't  play  it,  but  I  afterwards  shook 
him  and  put  twenty  on  it —  I  'm  a  goat  if 
it  did  n't  win,  and  I  pulled  down  a  thou 
sand.  I  looked  for  the  guy  who  gave  me 
the  tip,  but  I  could  n't  find  him  anywhere. 
I  guess  he  fell  dead  with  surprise  himself 
—at  least  I  've  never  seen  him  since. 

"  Now,  about  that  time,  I  had  to  quit  the 
family  I  was  living  with.  They  broke  up 
housekeeping  and  moved  away,  leaving  me 
on  a  cold,  cold  world.  After  that  I  did 


44  CHECKERS 

nothing  but  play  the  races.  I  followed 
them  from  town  to  town  —  St.  Louis, 
Louisville,  Cincinnati,  New  Orleans — win 
ning  a  little  now  and  then,  but  up  against 
it  most  of  the  time. 

"  I  got  the  malaria  down  south,  and  I 
took  a  notion  I  'd  go  to  Hot  Springs.  You 
ever  been  there  ?  No  ?  Well  say,  you 
talk  about  your  sportin*  life —  there  is  the 
onliest  place  to  see  it.  Every  kind  of  a 
gamblin'  game  you  ever  heard  of  runnin' 
wide  —  and  everybody  goes  against  'em. 

"I  had  heard  that  some  of  the  games 
were  crooked,  and  I  thought  I  'd  be  foxy 
and  leave  them  alone.  I  left  my  leather 
full  of  bills  with  the  clerk  up  in  the  hotel  safe. 

"  A  little  more  potato,  please.  Thanks, 
I  am  hungry,  and  that 's  no  dream. 

"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  one  day  at  the 
bath  I  meets  a  young  guy  in  the  cooling- 
room,  and  he  springs  a  system  to  beat  rou 
lette,  which  figures  out  a  mortal  cinch.  I 
don't  remember  the  system  now,  but  I 
recollect  we  tried  it  ourselves  on  a  private 
rheel,  and  it  could  n't  lose  The  onl? 


CHECKERS  45 

trouble  with  it  was  that  with  luck  against 
us  we  might  get  soaked  in  doubling  up  be 
fore  we  win.  But  we  made  up  our  minds 
to  begin  it  small,  and  be  content  with  a 
little  profit. 

"We  had  a  bank-roll  of  $600 — four  from 
me  and  two  from  him.  I  was  to  have  two- 
thirds  of  the  profits,  because  I  risked  two 
thirds  of  the  stuff. 

"  It  was  Thursday  night  we  set  to  try  it. 
Thursday  was  always  my  Jonah  day.  I 
wanted  to  wait  until  Saturday,  but  he 
did  n't  want  to  wait  that  long.  I  was  to 
do  the  playing  while  he  kept  tab  and  told 
me  what  to  do  each  whirl. 

"  Well,  we  buys  a  stack  of  a  hundred 
chips,  and  runs  them  up  to  two  hundred 
and  fifty.  I  says,  '  let 's  quit,'  but  he  was 
stuck  on  pushing  our  luck  while  it  came 
our  way.  We  played  along  for  half'  an 
hour,  and  hardly  varied  $50;  then,  all  at 
once,  we  'struck  the  slide,'  and  I  had  to 
buy  another  stack.  We  lost  that;  bought 
another  and  lost  it,  and  stood  in  the  hole 
£300. 


46  CHECKERS 

"  All  the  while  we  were  playing  the  sys 
tem,  and  I  had  a  '  hunch '  that  if  we  kept 
on  it  would  pull  us  out.  So  I  starts  to  buy 
another  stack  when  Kendall  —  his  name 
was  Arthur  Kendall  —  stops  me  and  says 
he  wants  to  quit.  Quit,  with  half  our 
money  gone!  I  was  so  sore  I  could  have 
smashed  him.  And  while  we  stood  there 
arguing,  without  a  nickel  on  the  board,  the 
wheel  was  rollin' dead  our  way  —  enough 
to  have  put  us  ahead  of  the  game. 

"  I  gave  him  his  hundred,  and  told  him 
to  'take  it  and  chase  himself — I  was 
through  with  him.  I  stuck  to  the  game 
until  five  in  the  morning.  They  got  every 
cent  I  had  in  the  world. 

"  Well,  I  went  to  the  hotel  and  went  to 
bed,  but  I  lay  there  wondering  how  I  was 
going  to  dig  up  the  money  to  pay  my  bill, 
and  give  me  a  start  when  my  luck  turned 
again.  The  longer  I  wondered  the  tougher 
it  seemed.  Finally  I  ordered  an  absinthe 
frappg  —  it  kind  of  gave  me  a  new  idea. 
I  M  put  up  a  song  to  my  Uncle  Giles,  and 
try  *~>  make  a  little  '  touch.' 


CHECKERS  47 

"  I  had  n't  seen  or  heard  of  him  for  hall 
a  dozen  years,  but  I  thought  after  all.  we 
had  done  for  him,  he  could  n't  hardly  lay 
down  on  his  nephew. 

"Well,  I  wrote  him  a  letter  that  would 
have  brought  tears  to  a  pair  of  glass 
eyes.  Say,  it  was  the  literary  effort  of 
my  life.  Of  course,  I  did  n't  just  stick  to 
the  facts.  Then  I  goes  down  and  gets  me  a 
little  breakfast,  and  begins  to  feel  like  my 
self  again. 

"  This  was  Friday.  Saturday  my  hotel 
bill  was  coming  due.  I  had  to  make  a 
killin'  somehow  to  get  my  trunk  and  clothes 
away. 

"  I  chased  myself  from  joint  to  joint, 
out  I  could  n't  get  next  to  anything.  There 
was  n't  a  thing  I  could  hock  nor  no  one 
that  I  could  'give  the  borry.'  Have  you 
ever  been  flat  broke,  Mr.  Preston,  with  not 
a  nickel  in  your  jeans;  no  one  to  stake 
you;  no  place  to  go,  and  nothing  to  keep 
you  from  starving  to  death?  You  haven't, 
eh?  Well,  then  you  do  n't  begin  to  know 
what  trouble  is.  You  feel  as  though  every 


48  CHECKERS 

one  had  you  '  sized,'  or  as  though  you 
were  going  to  be  arrested.  You  can't 
help  thinking  about  the  stuff  you  blew  so 
reckless  when  you  were  flush  —  the  night 
you  got  out  and  spent  a  hundred,  and  say, 
if  you  only  had  it  now!  You  take  a  para 
lyzed  oath  on  your  mother  that  if  you  ever 
get  right  again  you'll  '  salt  your  stuff '  and 
be  a '  tight-wad  ' —  and  then  you  remember 
you  're  broke  again.  I  've  been  up  against 
some  dead  tough  luck,  and  I  've  had  some 
fancy  crimps  put  in  me,  but  somehow  I  've 
never  felt  so  '  on  my  uppers '  as  I  did  at 
the  Springs  that  night. 

"  Say,  if  this  hard-luck  story  of  mine  gets 
tiresome  to  you,  ring  me  off.  I  didn't 
think  I  'd  be  so  long  in  getting  to  where 
my  troubles  began." 

I  assured  him  that  I  felt  the  tale  im« 
mensely  interesting,  as  indeed  I  did,  not 
only  in  its  mere  detail,  but  taken  in 
connection  with  the  youth  who  sat  there, 
telling  me  his  story  in  his  naive  way,  as 
unconcerned  as  though  he  had  the  Bank 
of  England  to  draw  upon.  With  not  a 


CHECKERS  49 

penny  in  his  pocket,  or  for  aught  I  knew 
a  place  to  sleep,  it  certainly  seemed  that, 
with  the  sparrows,  he  leaned  most  heavily 
on  Providence. 

"  Let  's  have  the  rest  of  it,  Checkers,"; 
I  said ;  "  I  'm  anxious  to  hear  how  you 
raised  the  wind." 

He  sipped  his  coffee  and  puffed  his 
cigarette  with  a  retrospective  air,  inhaling 
the  smoke  at  every  draught,  or  blowing  it 
forth  in  little  rings  which  he  watched  as 
they  circled  off  into  space. 

I  waited  in  silence. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  it  was  nothing 
but  'gallop  on  after  the  torch.'  About 
10  o'clock  I  blew  into  a  joint,  that  I  had  n't 
been  to — a  gambling  house.  There  was 
a  gang  around  the  faro-bank,  and  I 
shoved  in  to  see  what  was  going  on.  I 
hope  I  may  drop  if  Kendall  was  n't  sitting 
there,  howling,  paralyzed  full.  He  had  a 
lot  of  chips  in  front  of  him,  playin'  'em 
like  a  drunken  sailor.  He  had  down  bets 
all  over  the  board,  and,  honest,  it  gave  me 
heart  Disease  to  see  him  play.  He  puts  a 


50  CHECKERS 

stack  on  the  ace  to  win.  In  a  minute  01 
two  another  player  coppers  it,  and  takes  it 
down.  I  jumps  in  and  grabs  him  by  the  arm. 
'Hold  on,'  I  hollered,  'Arthur,  here's  a 
piker  that 's  touchin'  you  for  your  chips.' 

"  Say,  there  was  trouble  right  away.  The 
piker  made  a  smash  at  me.  I  dodged  and 
caught  him  an  upper  cut,  and  the  bouncer 
grabbed  him  and  threw  him  out.  This  sort 
of  sobered  Arthur  up,  and  for  a  while  he 
played  'em  '  cagey.'  I  goes  over  by  him, 
and  puts  up  a  bluff  to  the  gang  that  I  'm 
a  friend  of  his.  You  see  I  wanted  to  get 
him  out  before  they  got  his  money  away. 
It  was  a  '  pipe '  he  'd  lose  it  all  the  minute 
his  luck  turned.  But  as  long  as  I  was  n't 
playing  myself,  I  knew  I  'd  better  not  get 
too  gay,  but  I  watched  his  bets,  and  stacked 
his  chips,  and  saw  that  no  one  pinched  his 
sleepers. 

"  Well,  every  few  minutes  he  'd  call  for 
a  drink,  and  what  do  you  think  he  was1 
drinking  ?  Sherry.  Did  you  ever  get  a 
jag  on  sherry  ?  Well,  neither  did  I,  but  it 
gives  you  a  '  beaut.'  Arthur  had  a  '  carry 


CHECKERS  51 

over '  that  lasted  him  for  about  three  days. 
He  'd  slap  his  chips  down  any  old  place. 
It  was  the  funniest  thing  you  ever  saw. 
But  he  was  playing  in  drunken  luck,  and  I 
let  him  do  what  he  wanted  to. 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I 
finally  'cashed  him  in'  for  $200.  I  got 
him  into  a  hack,  and  took  him  to  my 
room.  But  say,  when  I  got  that  boy  un 
dressed  and  abed  and  asleep,  I  '11  tell  you 
like  these :  I  was  just  three  minutes  ahead 
of  a  fit,  and  the  fit  was  gaining  on  me  fast. 
I  had  to  take  a  couple  of  absinthes  be 
fore  I  could  get  myself  together.  But  you 
ought  to  have  seen  Kendall  in  the  morn 
ing  He  had  a  horrible  'sorry'  on.  The 
wheels  were  buzzing  around  in  his  head 
until  I  believe  if  he  'd  have  put  his  fingers 
in  his  ears,  they  'd  have  been  cut  off  —  I  do 
on  the  square.  He  could  n't  remember  it 
thing  he  'd  done,  except  that  he  started  out 
on  a  'sandy'  after  he  left  me  playing  rou 
lette —  the  night  before,  you  recollect,  and 
he  got  a  '  package '  aboard  that  he  ought 
to  have  made  at  least  two  trips  for. 


52  CHECKERS 

"  I  gave  him  his  money,  and  told 
where  I  found  him,  and  how  I  saved  it 
for  him,  and  he  began  to  cry  like  a  baby. 
You  see  his  nerves  were  all  to  pieces.  He 
wanted  me  to  take  him  home;  nothing 
would  do  but  he  must  go  home.  He  felt 
too  rocky  to  go  alone,  and  besides  he 
could  n't  trust  himself.  He  begged  me 
for  God's  sake  not  to  leave  him  or  he  'd 
get  full  again,  or  shoot  himself. 

"  I  found  out  afterward  that  he  had  sol 
emnly  promised  his  girl  that  he  'd  never 
get  drunk  again.  That 's  what  it  was  that 
gave  him  that  awful  'sorry.'  You  know 
how  it  is  when  you  love  a  girl.  While 
you  're  with  her  it  seems  dead  easy  to  live 
decent,  and  do  what  's  right,  and  you 
promise  anything.  Then  some  day  you 
get  out,  with  the  gang  and  'fall,'  and  the 
next  morning  R.  E.  Morse  is  sitting  up  on 
the  edge  of  your  bed  giving  you  the  hor 
rible  ha — ha. 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  finally  agreed  to  take 
him  home.  He  lived  in  Clarksville,  Ark. 
He  gave  me  the  roll  to  pay  our  bills  with 


CHECKERS  53 

and  buy  the  tickets  and  one  thing  and 
another,  while  he  went  down  to  the  bath 
to  boil  out.  But  say,  the  hardest  job 
of  my  life  was  not  to  '  pinch '  that  coin 
and  '  duck.'  It  was  mine  by  rights.  He  'd 
never  have  kept  it  if  I  had  n't  jumped  in 
and  saved  it  for  him.  But,  thank  God,  I 
can  say  one  thing,  I  never  stole  a  cent  in 
my  life.  I  may  have  separated  three  or 
four  guys  from  their  stuff,  perhaps,  at  dif* 
ferent  times ;  but  they  always  got  a  run 
for  their  money,  and  if  they  dropped  it  it 
was  n't  my  fault  So  I  just  could  n't  bring 
myself  to  do  it.  And  I  was  thankful  after 
wards  that  I  did  n't. 

"  The  happiest  year  I  ever  had  came  to 
me  on  account  of  that  trip  —  and  the  un- 
happiest.  But  I  would  n't  give  up  the 
pleasant  memories  if  I  had  to  go  through 
twice  the  troubles  again. 

" '  The  banister  of  life  is  full  of  slivers/ 
as  old  man  Bradley  used  to  say,  and  when 
a  fellow  '  hits  the  slide,'  he 's  apt  to  pick 
up  a  splinter  or  two.  But  I  '11  tell  you,  if 
you've  only  got  some  happy  times  that 


54  CHECKERS 

you  've  had  with  your  mother  or  sisters, 
your  wife,  or  your  girl,  to  look  back  to  and 
think  about,  when  you  're  in  hard  luck,  it 's 
a  kind  of  a  bracer,  and  saves  your  life " 

He  suddenly  stopped.  I  followed  his 
gaze,  and  turning  around  saw  Murray  and 
three  other  friends  coming  toward  me.  I 
felt  it  an  ill-timed  interruption;  but  I 
ordered  cigars  and  liquid  refreshments, 
and  introduced,  all  but  Murray,  to  Mr. 
Edward  Campbell,  which  I  had  learned 
was  the  proper  name  of  my  little  friend. 

I  was  needed,  Murray  explained,  "  to 
make  the  fifth  man  in  some  game  of  theirs 
which  could  not  be  played  to  advantage 
with  less; "  and  knowing  that  I  was  to 
work  late,  they  had  taken  a  chance  of  find 
ing  me  here. 

In  vain  I  begged  to  be  excused,  plead 
ing  indisposition,  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
anything  and  everything  which  might  have 
served  to  drive  them  off.  But  "  the  even 
ing  was  young,"  "  the  table  was  ready," 
and  I  "  ought  to  be  accommodating,"  and 
so  I  said  good  bye  to  Checkers,  and  slip- 


CHECKERS  55 

ping  him  a  dollar,  told  him  to  come  to  my 
office  next  day,  and  I  would  talk  with  him 
of  another  matter. 

He  thanked  me,  saying  he  would  be 
there,  and  shaking  my  hand,  bid  us  all 
good  night.  Then  tiptoeing  back  he 
whispered  in  my  ear:  "Say,  I  want  to 
give  you  a  little  advice:  Never  come  in 
on  less  than  jacks,  and  never  raise  a  one- 
card  draw,  unless  you've  got  a  'pat* 
yourself.  If  you  stick  to  that  you'll  have 
the  coin  when  the  rest  of  the  gang  are  '  on 
the  tram.' " 


IV 

The  following  morning  at  about  10 
o  -dock  Checkers  sauntered  into  my  office; 
his  hands  in  his  pockets;  his  hat  on  the 
back  of  his  head;  smoking  the  ubiquitous 
cigarette. 

I  was  busy  at  the  time  with  my  morn 
ing's  mail. 

Picking  up  the  daily  paper  he  tilted 
back  comfortably  in  a  chair,  and  interested 
himself  in  the  sporting  news. 

"  Well,  Checkers,"  I  said,  when  at  last  I 
had  finished,  "  How  are  you  this  morning, 
my  boy?" 

"  If  I  felt  any  better  I  could  n't  stand 
it,"  he  answered,  throwing  down  the  paper. 
'  But  you  do  n't  look  very  fit.  How  did 
you  come  out  with  the  boys  last  night?  " 

"  About  even,"  I  replied,  deprecatorily. 

He  smiled  in  a  most  exasperating  way. 
56 


CHECKERS  57 

"Now  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said  growing 
suddenly  confidential.  "There's  a  'hox 
thing '  coming  off  to-day,  and  I  want  yoi> 
to  put  a  swell  bet  on  it.  They've  been 
laying  dead  with  it  all  the  meeting — pulled  , 
his  head  off  his  last  two  outs — but  to-da)i 
they  've  got  him  in  a  good  soft  spot,  and 
they  're  going  to  '  put  it  over  the  plate.'  '* 

"  Checkers,"  I  said,  "  I  want  you  to 
understand,  once  and  for  all,  that  I  am  no 
gambler.  I  went  to  the  races  Derby  Day, 
as  I  would  go  to  any  other  show,  and  now 
and  then  I  play  a  little  quarter  limit  game 
with  my  friends.  But  even  that  1  do  n't 
approve  of.  I  tell  you  I  consider  gambling 
the  most  insidious  of  all  the  vices,  and  it 's 
on  just  that  point  that  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

"  I  want  you  to  give  up  that  kind  of  life, 
get  a  position  in  some  good  house,  and 
begin  to  make  a  man  of  yourself.  I  tell 
you  you  're  too  bright  a  boy  to  be  throw 
ing  yourself  away  as  you  are.  Suppose 
your  'good  thing'  wins  to-day — suppose 
you  do  make  some  money  on  it — you  will 
lose  it  on  something  else  to- morrow.  You 


5»  CHECKERS 

are  simply  living  from  hand  to  mouth^ 
growing  older  every  day  with  nothing  to 
show  for  the  time  you  have  spent. 

"  Now,  what  I  propose  is  simply  this.  I 
shall  look  about  among  all  my  friends  in 
the  wholesale  lines,  and  try  to  find  you  a 
position  where  you  can  learn  some  busi 
ness  from  the  beginning.  If  you  are  in 
dustrious  and  quick  it  will  be  but  a  com 
paratively  short  time  when  you  '11  have  a 
chance  to  go  on  the  road,  or  something  of 
that  sort.  Now,  what  do  you  say?  "  , 

I  can't  say  that  Checkers  seemed  wholly 
delighted.  He  looked  anywhere  but  into 
my  eyes  and  finally  said  he  "  would  like  a 
job,  but  he  did  n't  believe  I  could  get  him 
one." 

I  replied  that  I  was  sure  I  could,  as  my 
uncle  was  a  wholesale  dry-goods  merchant, 
and  I  had  several  friends  who  were  heads 
of  departments  in  other  large  stores  of 
various  kinds. 

"  Well,  we  '11  try  it  and  see,"  he  said  re 
signedly,  "  but  I  '11  tell  you  just  about  how 
it  is.  A  guy  goes  into  a  wholesale  house 


CHECKERS  59 

and  he  starts  at  the  bottom  in  some  de 
partment.  He  gets  up  at  the  break  of  day, 
and  he  works  like  the  devil  after  a  Chris 
tian.  If  he  has  good  luck  he  do  n't  get 
'fired,'  but  he  never  gets  a  raise  on  earth, 
unless  the  mug  above  him  dies,  or  breaks 
down  his  health  and  has  to  quit. 

"  Why,  I  knew  a  joker  who  worked  in  a 
certain  big  store  in  this  town  for  fifteen 
years.  He  lived  somewhere  way  out  in  the 
suburbs,  and  he  told  me  he  had  to  get 
down  so  early,  that  when  he  was  coming 
home  at  night  he  used  to  meet  himself 
starting  down  in  the  morning.  Well,  one 
day  some  one  gave  him  a  pass  to  the  Har 
lem  track  —  one  Saturday  afternoon.  He 
went  to  the  races  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life.  I  got  ahold  of  him  and  made  him 
win  three  hundred  dollars  with  a  five-dollai 
bill,  and  you  ought  to  have  heard  the  talk 
he  put  up.  '  Has  this  game  been  going  on 
all  this  time,'  he  says,  '  with  me  doing  the 
Rip  Van  Winkle  act  ?  Why,  I  'd  be  w.erth 
all  kinds  of  money  now,  if  I  'd  had  any 
sense.'  And  Monday  he  went  down  and 


*>  CHECKERS 

threw  up  his  job,  and  started  in  to  play  the 
ponies.  Of  course  he  went  broke,  but  not 
long  ago  he  struck  a  streak,  and  made  a 
killin*.  He  started  in  to  making  a  book, 
and  now  he 's  got  a  stable  with  five  good 
sprinters,  and  a  twenty  thousand  dollar 
bank-roll.  If  he  had  stuck  to  his  job  in 
that  store,  he  'd  have  probably  had  nervous 
prostration  by  this  time." 

"  But  the  case  you  cite,  Checkers,  is  one 
in  a  thousand,"  I  said,  smiling  broadly  in 
spite  of  myself.  "  While  that  one  man  may 
have  made  a  success  of  a  very  questionable 
sort  through  unusual  luck,  or  unusual 
shrewdness,  there  have  numberless  others 
gone  to  ruin  —  utter,  irretrievable  ruin,  by 
giving  way  to  their  passion  for  gambling. 

"  If  you  object  to  a  wholesale  house,  1 
may  perhaps  find  something  else  for  you 
to  do.  But  it  seems  to  me  to  be  simply  a 
shame  that  a  boy  of  your  ability  and  brains 
should  be  content  to  be  nothing  but  a  tout, 
and  herd  with  the  riff-raff  and  scum  oi 
creation.  Now,  once  and  for  all,  if  yoi 
desire  to  better  yourself,  I  shall  be  glad  W 


CHECKERS  01 

help  you  ;  but  otherwise  I  must  simply  re 
fuse  to  have  you  about  me  any  longer. 
Think  it  over  and  come  in  to-morrow,  and 
tell  me  your  decision.  Now,  you  must  ex 
cuse  me  as  I  have  an  engagement  with  thL7 
gentleman,"  and  I  turned  to  greet  a  friend 
whose  timely  arrival  saved  me  from  the 
"touch"  which  I  could  see  Checkers  was 
nerving  himself  to  make. 

I  found  however  that  to  secure  an  im 
mediate  position  for  my  prote'ge'  was  a 
much  more  difficult  matter  than  I  had  at 
rirst  imagined.  I  spoke  to  a  dozen  differ 
ent  people.  Most  of  them  assured  me  that 
/hey  already  had  more  help  than  they  had 
need  of.  Others  needed  no  one  now,  but 
thought  they  might  in  a  month  or  two, 
My  uncle  said  that  "  for  my  sake  he  would 
try  to  make  a  place  for  my  friend."  But 
when  I  told  him  all  the  facts,  he  shook  his 
head  and  looked  very  dubious. 

Meanwhile  at  frequent  intervals,  Check 
ers  would  drop  into  my  office,  and  chat  of 
the  happenings  of  other  days,  or  tell  me 
of  his  present  doings.  It  seemed  to  me. 


62  CHECKERS 

as  I  often  told  him,  that  if  he  would  only 
exercise  one-half  the  thought  and  ingenu 
ity  in  the  pursuit  of  something  legitimate 
that  he  used  in  "  separating  the  angels  he 
got  next  to  from  tneir  gold,"  he  would 
long  since  have  achieved  a  fortune. 

He  delighted  in  telling  of  the  successful 
working  of  some  new  scheme  he  had 
figured  out  for  the  trapping  of  the  unwary. 
And  at  each  recital  I  used  to  marvel  at  the 
boundless  credulity  of  the  average  human. 

But  whenever  I  could  I  would  start  him 
off  upon  some  incident  in  his  former  life. 
In  the  story  of  his  boyish  courtship,  the 
trials  he  underwent  in  securing  his  wife, 
and  his  subsequent  sorrows  and  misfor 
tunes,  there  was  an  exquisite  blending  of 
humor  and  pathos  which  appealed  to  me 
immeasurably.  It  was  seldom,  however, 
that  he  would  talk  of  those  days  —  the 
sadness  of  it  all  was  still  too  near  to  him. 
When  he  was  in  luck  he  never  referred  to 
them — he  seemed  to  live  in  the  present 
alone.  But  when,  as  was  frequently  the 
case,  his  luck  deserted  him  and  things  weni 


CHECKERS  63 

wrong,  he  would  sometimes  get  a  fit  of  the 
blues,  and,  falling  into  a  reminiscent  mood, 
would  find  a  sort  of  morbid  comfort  in 
living  it  all  over  again.  He  would  skip 
abruptly  from  scene  to  scene,  one  incident 
or  perscn  suggesting  another,  and  in  his 
own  peculiar  way  he  would  describe  a  situa 
tion  or  picture  a  character  with  a  vividness 
worthy  of  a  Dickens.  For  instance,  when, 
in  speaking  of  his  father-in-law,  he  said 
that  "  the  family  used  to  have  to  treat  him 
with  cocaine  before  he  could  stand  it  to 
give  up  a  nickel,"  I  thought  it  a  very 
forceful  way  of  expressing  the  old  man's 
carefulness. 

As  the  days  went  by  and  nothing  came 
of  my  efforts  to  get  a  position  for  Checkers, 
I  had  perforce  to  drop  the  matter,  and 
Checkers  never  again  referred  to  it. 

Gradually  his  visits  became  less  frequent^ 
as  I  ceased  to  continue  a  profitable  sub 
ject ;  for  his  invention,  however  fertile, 
could  not  furnish  new  excuses  forever. 
But  I  often  found  myself  gathering  up  the 
threads  of  his  story  as  he  had  told  it,  weav» 


64  CHECKERS 

ing  into  the  growing  fabric  some  strands  ot 
my  own  imaginings,  until  I  seemed  to  find 
in  it  an  odd  and  pathetic  little  romance. 
****** 

The  town  of  Clarksville,  Ark.,  was  not 
attractive  at  any  time,  but  to  Checkers,  who 
had  arrived  there  with  Arthur  Kendall  at 
three  o'clock  that  summer's  morning  en 
route  from  Hot  Springs,  the  aspect  of  the 
place  seemed  particularly  dismal. 

The  train  which  had  brought  them  from 
Little  Rock  steamed  away  toward  the  Ter 
ritory,  and  left  them  standing  in  darkness 
on  the  station  platform. 

A  'bus  from  the  hotel,  with  two  forlorn 
old  horses  driven  by  a  sleepy,  shock-headed 
boy,  stood  waiting  on  the  other  side.  They 
entered  it  and  went  creaking  off. 

As  Arthur  had  previously  explained  to 
Checkers,  his  father's  home  was  some  miles 
from  town,  and  accordingly  he  thought  it 
better  for  them  to  sleep  at  the  hotel  until 
morning,  have  their  breakfast,  and  then 
drive  out. 

As  they  lumbered  along  the  dusty  streets 


CHECKERS  65 

in  the  silence  of  the  early  morning,  Check 
ers  peered  curiously  out,  and  found  his 
original  impressions  gaining  strength. 

The  stars  were  shining  clear  and  lumin 
ous,  and  in  the  East  there  was  just  the 
faintest  glow  which  told  of  the  coming 
sunrise.  A  vaporish  mist  hung  low  on  the 
ground,  and  in  the  dim  uncertain  light  all 
objects  seemed  to  take  to  themselves  a 
weird  and  most  uncanny  look.  At  fre 
quent  intervals  a  "  razor-back,"  already  up 
and  browsing  about,  would  trot  tardily  out 
of  the  horses'  way,  grunting  his  dissatis 
faction. 

Shortly  they  turned  into  what  seemed  to 
be  the  street  of  the  town.  It  was  wider 
and  dustier  than  any  of  the  others,  and 
on  it  stood  a  large  brick  structure,  which 
Checkers  judged  to  be  the  court  house.  It 
formed  what  is  commonly  known  as  "a 
square,"  for  on  opposite  sides  of  the  street 
as  they  passed  Checkers  noticed  that  most 
of  the  buildings  were  stores,  with  their  low- 
burning  lamps  keeping  watch  through  the 
night. 


66  CHECKERS 

A  few  moments  more  and  the  'bus  drove 
Op,  and  stopped  before  a  low  brick  building. 

Kendall,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his 
corner,  awoke,  and  with  a  "  here  we  are," 
jumped  out  and  ushered  Checkers  into  an 
ill-smelling  room,  where  a  heavy-eyed  youth 
did  the  honors  as  clerk,  and  then  lowering 
himself  to  the  office  of  bell-boy,  took  their 
luggage  and  showed  them  the  way  to  their 
room. 

Arriving,  they  stood  in  the  darkness, 
until  he  succeeded  in  lighting,  with  a 
sulphur  match,  a  very  much  smoked  little 
kerosene  lamp,  after  which  he  brought 
them  a  pitcher  of  water,  and  departed  with 
out  the  formality  of  a  "good  night." 

Immediately  Arthur  began  to  undress. 
This  was  all  an  old,  old  story  to  him.  But 
Checkers  fell  to  looking  about  him.  He 
found  that  the  door  had  no  lock  upon  it, 
and  that  the  windows  opened  wide  upon  a 
low  veranda;  that  they  boasted  no  screens, 
nor  could  he  find  that  the  beds  had  any 
mosquito-bars. 

Kendall's  face  expressed  a  sleepy  sur- 


CHECKERS  67 

prise.  "  Come  on,  old  man;  get  undressed," 
he  said,  "  it 's  nearly  4  o'clock.  We  have  n't 
any  too  much  time  to  sleep." 

Checkers'  only  reply  was  to  pull  off  his 
coat,  and  to  sit  down  and  begin  to  unfasten 
his  shoes.  A  couple  of  June-bugs,  attracted 
by  the  light,  flew  in  at  the  window,  and 
bumping  around  in  their  noisy,  disagree 
able  way,  gave  Checkers  an  uncomfortable, 
crawly  feeling. 

The  truth  was,  Checkers  was  wholly  met 
ropolitan,  and  this  was  a  new  experience. 
The  darkness  and  silence  disheartened  and 
cowed  him.  He  missed  the  confusion  and 
glare  of  the  city. 

Kendall  had  fallen  fast  asleep,  and  was 
breathing  loudly  in  half  a  minute.  But 
Checkers  lay  wide-eyed  and  wondering, 
listening  to  the  locusts  and  katydids  out 
doing  themselves  in  the  trees  outside.  . 

And  then  he  fell  to  speculating  about 
his  chances  for  the  future,  wondering  what 
the  probable  outcome  of  this  new  venture 
of  his  was  to  be.  Had  n't  he  been  foolish 
in  coming  to  such  a  God-forsaken  iittle 


68  CHECKERS 

place?  He  might  have  borrowed  some 
money  from  Kendall,  and  stayed  at  the 
Springs  and  recouped. 

And  now  that,  after  several  days  of  so 
licitous  care  and  constant  watching,  he  had 
succeeded  in  pulling  Kendall  through 
without  his  giving  way  to  the  terrible  after- 
craving  he  had  for  liquor,  would  the  prom 
ises  made  him  be  fulfilled,  or  had  he  been 
too  credulous? 

Kendall  had  told  him  that  he  and  his 
father  were  wealthy.  That  besides  their 
large  fruit  farm,  they  were  interested  in  a 
general  store  and  commission  business.  He 
had  promised  Checkers  that  if  he  would  but 
consent  to  see  him  to  his  home  in  Clarks- 
ville,  he  should  be  given  a  good  position 
in  the  store,  and  that  if  after  they  arrived 
there  he  found  that  he  did  not  care  to 
remain,  he  should  have  transportation  to 
any  place  in  the  country  he  cared  to 
go.  And  to  Checkers,  disheartened  and 
penniless,  out  of  conceit  with  gambling, 
and  satiated  with  the  excitement  and  un 
certainty  of  the  life  he  had  been  leading, 


CHECKERS  69 

the  opportunity  seemed  a  very  godsend 
Thoughts  of  the  country,  green  and  cool, 
appealed  to  him  with  a  grateful  sense  of 
restfulness  and  quiet;  and  the  idea  of  go 
ing  to  work  again  at  something  legitimate 
brought  with  it  the  feeling  of  conscious 
approval,  which  always  accompanies  virtu 
ous  resolves. 

But  since  Kendall  had  become  himself 
again,  he  seemed  to  have  grown  less  de 
pendent  and  thankful.  And  again  the 
glimpse  that  Checkers  had  caught  of  the 
place  had  greatly  dampened  his  ardor. 

An  hour  dragged  slowly  by,  and  still  he 
lay  restlessly  tossing  about.  The  roosters 
began  to  crow  and  answer  each  other  from 
point  to  point  in  the  distance;  and  a  hound 
near  by  with  a  mournful  howl  bayed  dis 
mally  at  intervals. 

'Twas  the  strangeness  of  it  all  that  kept 
him  wakeful,  but  at  last  the  tension  was  re 
lieved  by  a  knocking  at  the  door  of  the 
room  beyond  which  aroused  a  couple  of 
drummers,  who  were  called  to  catch  an 
early  train.  He  heard  them  through  the 


7o  CHECKERS 

thin  partition,  dressing  and  grumbling  at 
their  luck.  Here  at  least  was  something 
natural,  and  gradually  the  humorous  side 
of  the  situation  appealed  to  him.  He 
smiled,  as  with  a  long-drawn  sigh  he  mur 
mured,  "  I  think  I  '11  get  fat  here,  nit,"  and 
when  he  awoke  it  was  broad  daylight,  and 
Kendall  was  standing  over  him,  dressed. 

"Hello,  old  man,  awake  at  last,"  laughed 
Kendall.  "Well,  you  better  get  up  and 
dress,  or  we  're  apt  to  miss  our  breakfast. 
How  did  you  sleep?  All  right,  I  hope;  you 
look  as  fresh  as  a  mountain  daisy." 

Checkers  crawled  slowly  out  of  bed. 
"Well,  then  my  looks  are  a  horrible  bluff," 
he  said,  with  the  slight,  sardonic  smile 
which  was  usual  to  him  at  nearly  all  times. 
"I  feel  like  the  last  end  of  a  misspent  life," 
and  he  fished  a  sock  out  from  under  the 
bed.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  continued,  as  he 
held  his  shirt  aloft,  preparatory  to  putting 
it  on,  "  it 's  wonderful  how  a  fellow's  early 
training  comes  back  to  him  later  in  life.  I 
recollect  my  mother  used  to  read  a  psalm 


CHECKERS  71 

about  not  being  '  afraid  of  the  terror  by 
night,  nor  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in 
darkness.'  Now,  somehow,  it  never  struck 
me  before,  but  I  '11  bet  the  party  that  wrote 
the  verse  never  slept  in  an  Arkansas  hotel 
bed.  If  he  did,  he  had  on  his  tin  pajamas, 
or  else  he  could  beat  '  the  pestilence  '  walk 
ing.  Say,  where  on  earth  is  my  other  sock? 
I'll  gamble  that  one  of  them  pinchin'-bugs 
pinched  it?  "  and  Checkers  kept  up  a  run 
ning  fire  of  quaint  remarks  while  Kendall 
laughed. 

Their  breakfast  was  a  culinary  horror. 

"  Have  you  got  any  capsules  ? "  asked 
Checkers  of  the  waitress. 

"  Capsules  ! " 

"Yes,  I'll  have  to  have  some,  if  I  take 
this  butter  internally."  A  kick  under  the 
table  from  Arthur  put  an  end  to  further 
persiflage. 

A  two-seated  spring  wagon,  known  local 
ly  as  a  "  hack,"  with  two  sturdy  horses  and 
a  driver  stood  waiting  for  them.  Arthur 
had  sent  out  and  ordered  it  before  break- 


72  CHECKERS 

fast,  and  his  telescope  bag  and  Checkers' 
trunk  he  had  caused  to  be  firmly  strapped 
Into  the  end. 

The  day  was  a  typically  beautiful  one. 
The  clear  and  bracing  morning  air  had  in 
it  just  enough  of  a  chill  to  make  the  sun 
shine  grateful  to  them,  as  they  drove  along 
the  winding  road,  toward  the  mountainous 
country  lying  beyond  them. 

Checkers'  blues  had  disappeared  with  the 
vapors  of  the  night  before,  and  he  felt  the 
exultation  of  a  new  and  pleasant  exper 
ience.  Arthur  was  in  an  easy  humor,  and 
described  at  considerable  length  to  Check 
ers  his  family  and  their  circumstances. 

Some  ten  years  back  his  father  had 
moved  from  Massachusetts  to  that  locality 
at  the  advice  of  his  doctor.  He  had  bron 
chial  trouble,  and  he  found  the  thin,  clear 
air  of  the  Ozarks  beneficial.  Mrs.  Ken 
dall  was  long  since  dead,  and  Arthur  had 
been  an  only  child.  Besides  these  two 
there  were  in  the  household  Aunt  Deb,  who 
was  a  sister  of  Mr.  Kendall's,  and  "  Cynthy," 
the  cook,  and  maid  of  all  work.  There 


CHECKERS  73 

was  also  a  good-natured  creature  named 
Tobe,  half-witted  and  harmless,  attached 
to  the  family,  who  did  odd  jobs  for  his 
board  and  keep,  and  had  constituted  him 
self  a  fixture. 

At  their  store  they  sold  everything  from 
plows  to  perfumery.  The  commission  busi 
ness  was  simply  an  adjunct.  They  bought 
for  cash  from  the  farmers,  and  shipped  the 
goods  to  Little  Rock,  and  sometimes  to  St. 
Louis.  Old  Mr.  Bradley,  who  had  owned 
the  store  when  they  first  came  there,  was 
running  it  now.  They  had  bought  him 
out,  but  had  given  him  an  interest  and 
salary  as  manager. 

The  business  was  the  pride  of  the  old 
man's  life,  and  he  watched  it  as  a  mother 
Watches  her  babe. 

Arthur  spent  most  of  his  time  at  the 
store,  selling  goods  and  talking  to  the  trade; 
but  the  elder  Kendall  seldom  went  there. 
He  passed  the  summer  in  his  garden  and 
among  his  fruit  trees.  In  the  winter  he 
generally  traveled  farther  South, 

Checkers  gathered  by  indirection  that  he 


74  CHECKERS 

was  wealthy  outside  of  his  business.  Prob 
ably  an  eccentric  individual,  who  simply 
liked  the  place  and  stayed  there. 

"I  should  think,"  said  Checkers,  as 
Arthur  paused  in  his  recital,  "that  a  fellow 
would  fall  into  a  trance  in  about  a  week,  in 
a  place  like  this.  What  on  earth  do  you 
do  with  yourself." 

"  Well,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  have  n't  lived 
here  much.  I  've  been  East  to  school,  and 
knocked  around  in  a  lot  of  different  places, 
and  I  like  it  here  as  a  kind  of  a  change. 
There  are  a  couple  of  very  nice  girls  in 
the  town  that  I  call  on  once  in  a  while.  I 
read  a  good  deal  in  the  evenings,  and,  in 
season,  the  shooting  is  fine.  I  '11  admit  it 
gets  rather  stupid  at  times,  but  it's  the  best 
place  in  the  world  for  me.  You  know  they 
have  '  local  option  '  here,  and  you  can 't 
get  a  drink  for  love  or  money.  As  long 
as  I  stay  here,  of  course,  I  'm  all  right;  but 
as  sure  as  I  get  away  some  place,  I  make  a 
fool  of  myself,  and  get  full,  as  I  did  when 
you  rescued  me  at  the  Springs.  Drinking 
is  a  disease  with  me.  I  can  't  drink  as 


CHECKERS  75 

jiost  fellows  do.  If  I  touch  a  drop  it 
starts  me  off,  and  it's  good-bye  for  a  week 
or  two.  Each  time  I  come  home  as  the 
prodigal  did,  and  my  father  comes  out  and 
'falls  on  my  neck.'  He's  been  devilish 
kind,  the  governor  has,  and  I  've  cost  him 
a  lot  of  money  and  trouble." 

"Well,  that's  what  a  father  has  to  ex 
pect,"  remarked  Checkers.  "  If  ever  I 
have  a  son,  I  '11  begin  storing  up  veal  on 
the  day  that  he's  born — I  '11  need  it  if  he 
takes  after  'papa.'" 

Arthur  laughed  and  laid  his  hand  caress 
ingly  upon  Checker's  shoulder.  "  Old 
man,"  he  said,  "  I  like  you  and  I  want  you 
to  stay  here  and  be  my  chum.  We  '11  have 
some  bully  times  together,  and  you  '11  like 
it  when  you  get  used  to  the  place.  You  've 
treated  me  mighty  white  all  through,  and 
I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  appreciate  it." 

Checkers  grew  red.  He  felt  embarrassed, 
'and  hesitated  for  a  reply.  Arthur  knew 
his  story,  or  such  of  it  as  Checkers  had  seen 
fit  to  relate  to  him.  But  Checkers  had 
never  intimated  that  he  was  hopelessly  de- 


76  CHECKERS 

pendent.  He  had  spoken  vaguely  of  rela« 
lives;  of  drawing  a  draft  on  Uncle  Giles; 
of  telegraphing  to  Chicago  for  money;  it 
lent  him  respectability. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  at  this  time 
Checkers  had  not  been  through  the  most 
trying  part  of  the  experiences  of  which  he 
had  spoken  while  dining  with  me  at  Kins 
ley's  that  night.  And  while  by  no  means 
Arthur's  equal  in  the  social  scale,  he  was 
still  very  far  from  being  the  hardened  tout, 
whom  two  years  later,  I  met  at  the  race 
track,  Derby  Day. 

Nevertheless,  he  himself  felt  a  difference 
intuitively,  and  though  he  had  exercised  to 
the  full  his  talent  for  making  himself  com 
panionable,  it  had  proved  a  very  difficult 
task  to  fully  break  through  Arthur's  re 
serve.  This  sudden  show  of  sentiment, 
therefore,  upon  Arthur's  part,  affected  and 
pleased  him;  and  reaching  up  to  the  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  he  grasped  it  warmly.  "I  '11 
go  you,"  he  said.  And  the  two  friends 
smiled  into  each  other's  eyes. 


A  very  few  days  sufficed  to  make  Check 
ers  feel  thoroughly  at  home  in  his  new  sur 
roundings.  The  Kendall  house  was  a  roomy, 
frame  structure  set  upon  one  of  the  highest 
of  the  Ozark  Mountains,  to  which  the  road 
from  Clarksville  was  a  gradual,  and  almost 
constant  ascent.  From  his  window  Check 
ers  could  see  for  miles  down  into  the  val 
ley,  across  the  dense  growth  of  mountain- 
pines,  the  many  shaded  green  and  yellow 
squares  of  fields  and  farm  lands  beyond, 
and  away  in  the  distance  the  Arkansas 
River  glistening  in  the  sun  like  a  silver 
snake. 

Immediately  surrounding  the  house  were 
the  orchards,  their  trees  almost  breaking 
with  the  wealth  of  their  red  and  yellow  fruit. 

Checkers  had  found  ready  favor  with 
Mr.  Kendall  by  evincing  an  enthusiastic 
77 


78  CHECKERS 

interest,  confessing  at  the  same  time  an 
ignorance  which  allowed  the  old  gentle 
man  full  opportunity  for  enlarging  upon 
his  favorite  hobbies.  Aunt  Deb's  smiles 
were  as  quickly  won  by  a  deft  word  in 
praise  of  the  table. 

Just  how  Arthur  had  explained  the  pres 
ence  of  his  friend  to  the  household,  Check 
ers  did  not  know.  But  it  was  evident,  as 
he  remarked  to  himself,  that  "the  expla 
nation  went,"  and  he  bothered  himselr 
about  it  no  further. 

At  the  store  it  was  found  that  Checkers' 
talents  were  those  of  a  salesman  par  excel 
lence. 

He  quickly  learned  the  run  of  the  goods, 
and  his  chief  delight,  to  use  his  own  words, 
was  "to  jolly  the  jays  into  buying  some 
thing  they  absolutely  had  no  need  of." 

Arthur  and  Mr.  Bradley  would  some 
times  stand  almost  convulsed  with  silent 
laughter,  listening  to  the  dialogue  between 
Checkers  and  some  country  customer. 

He  was  quick  at  reading  character,  and 
his  intuitions  were  remarkably  keen.  He 


CHECKERS  79 

was  able,  therefore,  to  ingratiate  himsell 
with  nearly  every  class  of  purchaser,  by 
starting  a  genial  conversation  upon  the 
topic  he  deemed  most  fit,  letting  it  take 
its  course  through  all  the  vagaries  of  a 
country  mind,  until  at  last  it  veered  around 
to  the  subject  of  a  possible  purchase.  Then, 
in  the  most  disinterested  way,  and  as 
though  rather  sorry  to  end  the  talk,  he 
would  go  behind  the  counter  and  pleas 
antly  show  forth  a  number  of  things  that 
had  n't  been  asked  for,  as  though  it  was 
only  as  a  special  favor  that  he  had  gone  to 
the  trouble  of  getting  the  articles  down. 
Such  consideration,  backed  by  a  judicious 
talk,  seldom  failed  of  the  most  substantial 
results;  and  Checkers'  fame  soon  went 
abroad  as  "  a  nice,  young  feller  and  a 
smart  'un,  too." 

It  was  during  his  first  few  days  at  the 
store  that  he  acquired  the  soubriquet  of 
"  Checkers."  It  was  a  piece  of  rude,  bu 
colic  wit,  but  the  name  stuck  to  him,  as 
such  names  will,  and  followed  him  through 
his  many  vicissitudes. 


8o  CHECKERS 

Time  was  at  a  discount  in  Clarksville 
Everyone  had  time  to  spend,  but  few  had 
money  for  such  a  purpose.  And  generally 
at  the  Kendall  store,  some  six  or  eight  of 
the  local  talent  might  be  found  lounging 
comfortably  in  the  chairs  outside,  chaffing 
one  another,  chewing  tobacco,  and  waiting 
for  something  new  to  turn  up. 

This  was  particularly  the  case  on  Satur 
days,  when  the  farmers  came  to  town  with 
their  apples,  vegetables  and  eggs  for  barter, 
made  their  necessary  purchases,  and  con 
sumed  the  balance  of  the  day  in  standing 
around,  talking  crops  and  politics. 

Although  there  were  no  saloons  in  the 
place,  the  greater  part  of  the  assemblage 
always  delayed  their  shopping  until  the 
last  possible  moment,  which  naturally  made 
a  considerable  rush  at  the  various  stores  as 
evening  approached. 

It  was  Checkers'  first  Saturday  there,  and 
while  endeavoring  to  be  as  helpful  as 
possible,  he  was  nevertheless  rather  awk 
ward,  as  a  result  of  his  unaccustomedness. 

This  did  not  fail  to  be  observed  by  the 


CHECKERS  81 

natives,  to  whom  he  was  an  obiect  of  much 
curiosity,  and  to  whom  his  presence  among 
the  Kendalls  was  a  matter  of  wide  and 
varied  conjecture.  The  younger  element 
especially  showed  an  undisguised  interest 
in  all  that  he  did,  whispering  and  laughing 
among  themselves  in  a  way  which,  to 
Checkers,  was  most  exasperating. 

There  is  something  about  a  city-bred 
youth  —  his  manner,  his  clothes,  his  well- 
groomed  look,  his  unconscious  air  of  su 
periority  — which  is  antagonistic  to  country 
prejudice.  Such  prejudice  is  not  hard  to 
rerrove,  and  generally  disappears  upon 
she  ft  acquaintance.  But  the  initiation  is 
very  trying,  and  Checkers  felt  the  ordeal 
keenly. 

''Say,  Arthur,"  he  said,  as  Kendall 
pa  ted,  "  if  some  of  those  guys  do  n't  chase 
themselves,  and  quit  whisperin'  around, 
and  givin'  me  the  rah-rah,  there 's  going  to 
be  a  fight  01  a  foot  race,  and  your  Uncle 
Dudley  won't  be  in  front." 

"Why,  they're  all  right,"  said  Arthur, 
soothingly.  "They 're  interested  in  you, 


82  CHECKERS 

because  you  're  a  stranger.  But  they  do  n't 
mean  the  slightest  harm.  You  know  '  a 
cat  may  look  at  a  king.'  " 

"Yes,  I  know  'a  cat  may  look  at  a  king,' 
but  she  'd  better  not  see  any  flies  on  the 
king,  if  she  wants  to  keep  her  health  and 
strength,"  and  Checkers  continued  arrang 
ing  a  show-case. 

In  order  to  save  his  clothes  while  work 
ing,  Checkers  had  brought  to  the  store  an 
old  suit  of  a  loud,  checked  pattern,  and 
peculiar  cut,  which,  nevertheless,  was  very 
becoming. 

Towards  evening  the  crowd  began  to  in 
crease,  and  Mr.  Bradley,  Arthur,  two  assis 
tants  and  Checkers  were  all  as  busy  as  it 
was  possible  to  be.  Those  who  were  being 
waited  on  took  none  the  less  time  in  mak 
ing  their  purchases,  because  there  were 
others  awaiting  their  turn.  As  a  conse 
quence,  there  was  chafir  *  and  grumbling 
among  the  procrastinators,  who  were  now 
in  a  hurry. 

Uncle  Jerry  Halter,  from  the  back  wood* 


CHECKERS  83 

—  a  character;  shrewd,  crabbed  and  as  close 
as  the  next  minute  —  was  foremost  among 
these,  and  at  last  he  discovered  our  friend, 
Mr.  Campbell,  checked  suit  and  all,  return 
ing  from  having  washed  his  hands,  after  -, 
not  very  successful  attempt  at  filling  a  large 
brown  jug  with  molasses. 

The  old  man  crowded  through  to  the 
counter,  leaning  over  it  expectantly,  but 
Checkers  passed  him  by  unheeded,  making 
his  way  toward  a  pretty  girl. 

"  Hey  there  !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Jerry 
indignantly  —  his  voice  was  loud  and  very 
nasal.  "  Hey  !  '  Checkers,'  or  whatever 
your  name  is  —  I  'm  in  a  hurry,  and  I  want 
to  go." 

Instantly  there  was  a  general  laugh,  and 
Checkers  stopped  and  turned  around. 

"Well,  go  if  you  want  to  —  you're  not 
tied  down,"  he  retorted,  and  the  laugh  was 
on  Uncle  Jerry. 

The  old  man  colored  to  the  roots  of  his 
hair.  "  You  're  very  fresh,  young  feller,"  he 
snarled. 


84  CHECKERS 

"Yes ;  warranted  to  keep  in  any  climate," 
said  Checkers,  smiling  good-naturedly  at 
him. 

Arthur  happened  along  just  then,  and 
soothed  and  waited  upon  Uncle  Jerry,  get 
ting  him  peaceably  out  of  the  store. 

In  the  morning  at  breakfast  he  related 
the  incident  to  Mr.  Kendall,  who  he 
knew  would  appreciate  it. 

"There  is  only  one  man  about  here 
meaner  than  old  Jerry  Halter,"  said  Mr. 
Kendall,  addressing  Checkers,  "and  that 
is  the  father  of  Arthur's  little  friend,  Miss 
Barlow.  I  once  heard  a  friend  of  mine 
say  of  him  that  'he  would  n't  smile  unless 
it  was  at  another  man's  expense,'  and  I 
quite  believe  it.  Arthur  could  tell  you  no 
end  of  humorous  things  about  him,  if  he 
only  would.  But  I  suppose  he  does  n't 
want  to  relate  what  may  some  day  be 
family  secrets.  How  is  that,  Arthur?" 

Arthur  looked  annoyed,  but  did  not 
•jeply  to  this  bit  of  parental  humor. 

"  As  soon  as  Pert  and  Sadie  come  home 
you  must  take  Mr.  Campbell  to  call  on 


CHECKERS  85 

them,  Arthur,"  said  Aunt  Deb.  "They 
are  two  lovely  girls,"  she  continued,  turn 
ing  to  Checkers.  "  They  've  been  away 
to  school;  to  a  seminary  up  in  Illinois. 
School 's  out  now,  of  course,  but  they  're 
visiting  somewhere  —  in  St.  Louis,  I  be^ 
lieve.  They  're  expected  home  this  week, 
though;  so  you'll  have  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  them  soon." 

"Sisters  ?"  asked  Checkers. 

"  No ;  not  sisters,  but  cousins,  and  almost 
inseparable.  Sadie  is  n't  as  pretty  as  Pert, 
but  she  's  just  as  sweet  as  sweet  can  be,  and 
&  perfect  treasure  about  a  house.  Are  you 
fond  of  young  ladies,  Mr.  Campbell  ?  " 

Checkers  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  "  I  'm 
a  great  admirer  of  girls  in  general,*'  he  re 
plied,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "and 
they  've  always  struck  me  as  being  a  mighty 
nice  thing  to  kind  of  have  around.  But 
I  've  had  very  little  experience  with  them 
• — that  is,  at  least,  in  the  last  two  years." 

The  truth  was,  that  the  friends  with 
whom  Checkers  had  gone  to  live  in  Chi 
cago,  after  his  mother's  death,  had  been 


86  CHECKERS 

people  of  true  worth  and  refinement.  They 
.were  poor — a  widowed  mother  and  two 
daughters  —  and  the  liberal  sum  which 
Checkers  insisted  upon  paying  them  for 
his  monthly  maintenance  was  to  them  a 
matter  of  grateful  benefit.  But  they,  in 
return,  had  exercised  a  restraining  influ 
ence  over  him  ;  had  taught  him  to  be  cour 
teous  and  gentlemanly,  deferential  to  his 
elders,  and  respectful  toward  women,  or, 
at  least  to  maintain  such  an  outward  sem 
blance,  which  answered  all  general  purposes. 

He  had  conceived  a  boyish  adoration  for 
the  elder  daughter,  four  years  his  senior, 
which  had  aided  her  materially  in  her  influ 
ence  over  him  for  good.  And  it  was  only 
as  he  began  to  realize  the  utter  hopeless 
ness  of  his  passion,  and  at  the  same  time 
found  himself  being  supplanted  by  the 
bearded  man  who  some  months  after  mar 
ried  her  and  took  her  away,  that  he  grew 
dissatisfied  with  working  and  found  the 
excitement  that  he  craved  in  racing  and 
kindred  gambling  devices. 

For  several  years  he  had  lived  this  life, 


CHECKERS  87 

gradually  growing  hard  and  careless.  But 
now  that  he  found  himself  once  more  an 
inmate  of  a  respectable  family  circle,  he 
resumed  his  gentleness  of  manner,  as  it 
had  been  a  half-forgotten  r61e. 

"  I  had  been  "keeping  the  girls  as  a  little 
surprise  for  him,  Aunt  Deb,"  said  Arthur 
rather  reproachfully.  "  To  meet  a  girl  who 
has  been  described  to  you  is  like  listening 
to  a  joke  which  is  told  point  first." 

"  I  warrant  he  '11  find  plenty  to  be  inter 
ested  in  after  he  meets  them,  for  all  we  may 
tell  him,"  replied  Aunt  Deb. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Kendall,  "  there  is  some 
thing  about  each  girl  one  meets  a  little  dif 
ferent  from  any  other.  At  least  it  was  so 
when  I  was  a  boy.  I  never  found  any  two 
quite  alike." 

"  I  never  found  one  alike  any  two  times," 
said  Arthur,  very  feelingly;  "but  their  un 
certainty,  I  suppose,  is  their  charm.  Come, 
let 's  go  out  and  loaf  under  the  trees." 

"Thank  God,  Sunday  comes  once  a 
week,"  said  Checkers.  "  I  could  stand  two 
a  week  without  straining  myself." 


88  CHECKERS 

"  The  girls  are  to  be  home  Friday,"  said 
Arthur.  "  Fi  iday  night  we  '11  go  down  and 
call,  if  you  'd  like  to." 

"  Tickled  to  death,"  said  Checkers. 

"Sadie  will  probably  stay  with  Pert  a 
while,  as  her  father,  Judge  Martin,  has  gone 
to  Texas,  and  won't  be  back  for  a  couple 
of  weeks.  Sadie's  mother  is  dead,  you 
know,  and  she  and  the  old  man  are  all 
alone.  By  the  way,  the  Judge  is  rich,  and 
Sadie  is  rich  in  her  own  right,  too." 

"  That  settles  it,  Sadie  dear;  you  're  mine. 
A  fortune-teller  told  me  I  'd  marry  a  rich 
girl." 

"Better  see  her  before  you  marry  her, 
had  n't  you  ?  "  suggested  Arthur. 

"Why?  She  has  n't  got  pen -paralysis, 
has  she?" 

"  Pen-paralysis  !  No ;  what  on  earth  is 
that  ?  " 

"  Well,  as  long  as  she  can  sign  a  checkv' 
I  guess  we   can    manage  to  worry  along. 
She  may  have  faults ;  she  probably   has ; 
but  any  girl  who  marries  me  won't  be  get 
ting  any  the  best  of  it.     There' s  a  heap  of 


CHECKERS  89 

consolation  in  that  idea  to  a  man  about  to 
commit  matrimony." 

(  "  There  are  very  few  men  I  know  of," 
said  Arthur,  "but  what  could  '  lay  to  their 
soul  that  flattering  unction.'  " 

"  When   you  're   swapping   '  sights   un 
seen,'  "  said  Checkers,  "you  do  n't  want  too 
good  a  knife,  or  a  horse  yourself,  or  you  '11 
get  the  hooks  on  the  trade." 

"With  all  respect  to  you,  my  boy,  you'd 
be  far  from  'getting  the  hooks,'  as  you 
call  it,  with  Sadie  Martin  for  a  wife." 

"  Or  you  with  Miss  Barlow,  I  suppose." 

Arthur's  only  response  was  a  long  drawn 
sigh,  and  he  gazed  into  distance  vacantly. 

"  Where  did  they  get  the  name  of  '  Pert ' 
for  Miss  Barlow,  Arthur  ?"  asked  Checkers, 
suddenly. 

"  It 's  an  abbreviation  of  a  biblical  name," 
said  Arthur.  "  In  a  verse  of  one  of  Paul's 
Epistles  to  the  Romans,  he  says,  '  Salute 
also  the  beloved  Persis.'  When  Pert  was 
a  child  they  gave  her  the  nick-name,  and 
it's  stuck  to  her  ever  since." 

Friday  evening  came  at  last,  and  Arthur 


90  CHECKERS 

and  Checkers  at  an  early  hour  drove  down 
the  mountain  to  call  upon  the  young  ladies. 

The  Barlows  lived  much  nearer  Clarks- 
ville  than  did  the  Kendalls,  though  upon 
a  different  road,  and  the  young  men  had  a 
long  and  round-about  drive  ere  they 
reached  their  destination.  As  they  entered 
the  driveway  two  large  dogs  came  bound 
ing  toward  them,  growling  fiercely. 

"  Look  out  thar,  boys,  ye  do  n't  git  dog- 
bit  !"  shouted  a  voice.  "  Here  Lion,  here 
Tige  ;  commir,  ye  varmints  !  What  d  'ye 
mean  ?  All  right  now  ;  I  've  got  a-hold 
of  'em.  That  you,  Arthur  ;  how  de  do  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Barlow  ? "  re 
sponded  Arthur. 

"  Hitch  yer  hosses  ter  that  tree  thar.  I  '11 
send  Joe  out  ter  tend  to  'em.  Ye  '11  find 
the  girls  round  the  side  in  a  hammock. 
Here  's  Pert  a-comin'  now." 

"  Good  evening,  Arthur,  I  'm  glad  to  see 
you,"  said  a  pleasant  voice,  and  out  of  the 
shadow  into  the  light  of  the  yellow  moon, 
which  was  just  showing  over  the  tops  of 
the  trees,  the  figure  of  a  girl  in  white  ap- 


CHECKERS  91 

peared,  moving  quickly  and  gracefully 
toward  them. 

Arthur  stepped  forward,  and  taking  both 
of  her  hands  in  his,  pressed  them  silently 
for  a  moment.  "  Pert,"  he  said,  "  I  want 
you  to  meet  my  friend,  Mr.  Campbell. 
Come  here,  old  man.  Miss  Barlow,  Mr. 
Campbell." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Miss  Bar 
low,"  said  Checkers,  with  a  graceful  in 
clination. 

"  Where 's  Sadie,  Pert  ?  Oh,  here  she 
comes,"  said  Arthur.  "  That  you,  Sadie  ? 
How  are  you  ?" 

"Pretty  well,  thank  you.  How's  your 
self  ?" 

"  Sadie,  let  me  introduce  you  to  a  friend 
of  mine.  Miss  Martin,  Mr.  Campbell." 

Miss  Martin  straightway  offered  her  hand, 
and  Checkers  shook  it  cordially. 

"  Let 's  go  and  sit  where  we  can  see  the 
moon  —  it's  perfectly  beautiful  to-night," 
said  Pert.  "  Arthur,  get  two  chairs  from 
the  porch,  and  bring  them  over  by  the 
hammock." 


92  CHECKERS 

Arthur  went  to  fulfill  his  mission  while 
Checkers  walked  between  the  young  ladies. 

Suddenly  he  skipped  nimbly  forward. 
"  Excuse  me  while  I  climb  a  tree,"  he  ex 
claimed,  with  a  comical  intonation.  "There 
comes  Lion  and  Tige,  and  I  'm  afraid  it 's 
another  horrible  case  of  'They're  After 
Me.*" 

"  Oh,  they  won't  touch  you  while  you  're 
with  us,"  laughed  Sadie.  "Here  Lion, 
here  Tige,  good  dogs." 

"  Well  then,  I  think  I  'd  better  establish 
my  popularity  with  them  both  right  now," 
said  Checkers ;  and  with  an  air  of  confi 
dence  he  kindly  patted  and  rubbed  their 
heads  in  a  way  that  dogs  love,  and  made 
them  his  friends. 

Meanwhile  Arthur  arrived  with  the  chairs. 
Sadie  seated  herself  in  one  of  them,  and 
motioning  Checkers  to  place  the  other  be 
side  her,  left  the  hammock  to  Pert  and 
Arthur. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  time  in  St.  Louis, 
girls  ?"  asked  Arthur. 

"  Oh  lovely  ! "  they  both  exclaimed. 


CHECKERS  93 

"  We  hated  dreadfully  to  come  home," 
continued  Sadie,  "but  we  simply  had  to. 
Our  clothes  were  in  tatters.  All  the  men 
were  so  sweet  to  us.  They  kept  something 
going  on  every  minute." 

Then  followed  an  enthusiastic  account 
of  their  good  time,  which  was  tiresome  to 
Checkers,  and  torture  to  Kendall. 

"  Pert,  get  your  banjo,"  said  Arthur,  sud 
denly.  "It  seems  like  years  since  I've 
heard  you  play. " 

"It  has  n't  but  one  string  on  it,  Arthur," 
laughed  Pert,  "  but  I  '11  fix  it  up  to-morrow, 
sure." 

"I  think  it  would  sound  very  smooth 
out  here  in  the  moonlight,  Miss  Barlow,'* 
suggested  Checkers.  "  If  you  have  some 
new  strings  I  'd  be  glad  to  fix  it  up  for  you- 
I  used  to  play  a  bit  myself." 

Sadie  jumped  up.  "  Come,  let's  go  and 
get  it,"  she  said ;  and  she  and  Checkers 
went  into  the  house. 

She  ushered  Checkers  into  a  room  where 
Mr.  Barlow,  in  shirt  sleeves  and  stocking 
feet,  sat  dozing  in  a  rocking  chair,  while 


94  CHECKERS 

his  wife,  a  sweet-faced,  grey-haired  woman, 
worked  button-holes  in  his  new  gingham 
shirts. 

Checkers  felt  drawn  towards  Mrs.  Bar 
low.  She  reminded  him  strangely  of  hi? 
mother.  She  had  a  smile  like  a  benedic 
tion  ;  but  in  her  weary  eyes  he  could  read 
a  tragedy. 

The  banjo  was  one  of  Arthur's  many 
gifts  to  Pert  in  days  gone  by,  and  Check 
ers  to  his  great  relief  found  it  a  very  excel 
lent  instrument. 

Checkers  was  not  a  conversationalist, 
where  conversation  had  to  be  made  ;  but 
he  was  a  very  good  amateur  banjoist,  and 
he  sang  an  excellent  comic  song ;  and  he 
was  glad  of  the  opportunity  offered  to  show 
himself  in  perhaps  his  best  r61e. 

While,  with  the  banjo  on  his  knee,  he 
deftly  adjusted  the  strings,  Miss  Martin 
sat  beside  him,  an  interested  spectator,  and 
talked  to  him  in  an  undertone. 

*'I  thought  we  had  better  come  in  here 
end  give  Arthur  a  little  chance,"  she  said 
—  "  poor  fellow."  This  with  a  long  drawn 


CHECKERS  95 

sigh,  which  seemed  to  demand  an  explana 
tion. 

Checkers  looked  up,  inquiringly.  This 
was  his  first  legitimate  opportunity  of  tak 
ing  a  comprehensive  look  at  her.  The 
casual  glance  had  proclaimed  her  plain, 
but  now  in  the  bright  light  of  a  hanging- 
lanip  she  seemed  to  him  hopelessly  unat 
tractive.  He  felt  chagrined  and  disap 
pointed.  He  was  angry  with  Arthur  for 
not  having  prepared  him  for  such  a  cruel 
disillusion.  For  somehow  since  his  jesting 
words  of  the  previous  Sabbath  morning, 
he  had  allowed  his  fancy  to  run  the  gamut 
of  many  glittering  possibilities. 

He  had  started  forth  that  evening,  feel 
ing  a  pleasurable  excitement  in  the  vague 
presentiment  that  he  was  going  to  meet 
his  destiny.  But  now  it  simply  "  would  n't 
do."  He  decided  quickly  and  became  re 
signed. 

"  It  was  n't  that  she  was  really  so  ugly," 
he  afterwards  explained  to  me,  "  but  there 
was  n't  anything  about  her  that  you  could 
tie  to,  and  sort  of  forget  the  rest "  — except 


96  CHECKERS 

her  "stuff,"  and  he  wasn't  sure  but  that 
was  one  of  Arthur's  "  pipe-dreams."  She 
had  no  style,  no  face,  no  figure.  Nothing 
at  all  for  a  little  starter.  She  was  just  a 
girl,  that  was  all  —  just  a  girl.  A  fact 
which  put  her  beyond  the  pale. 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  poor  fellow  ?' "  said 
Checkers,  after  several  moments  silence. 
"  It  seems  to  me  he 's  mighty  lucky  to  have 
such  a  tidy  little  friend." 

"  Yes,  but  I  fear  she  is  only  a  friend,  and 
that 's  why  I  'm  so  sorry  for  him.  I  like 
Arthur  ;  I  think  he  is  simply  a  dear.  He 
has  always  been  perfectly  lovely  to  me. 
But  Pert  —  well,  Pert  is  very  peculiar,  and 
Arthur,  you  know,  is  awfully  fast." 

Checkers  put  on  an  incredulous  look. 
"Arthur  fast !"  he  exclaimed  with  a  laugh. 
"Why,  if  he  was  in  a  city,  I  'd  expect  him 
to  get  run  over  by  a  hearse  inside  of  a 
week." 

"  Oh,  you  men  always  stand  up  for  each 
other  ;  but  I  know  all  about  it.  You  can't 
fool  me." 

Mrs.  Barlow  looked  up  from  her  sewing. 


CHECKERS  9} 

"You  and  Arthur  are  very  old  friends,  I 
suppose,"  she  said,  interrogatively. 

This  was  just  the  question  that  Checkers 
had  feared.  "  We  went  to  school  at  about 
the  same  time,"  he  replied,  and  immedi 
ately  struck  up  an  air,  which,  for  the  timei 
precluded  further  questioning.  "  At  least, 
I  suppose  we  did,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
"as  we  are  about  the  same  age." 

Meanwhile  Pert  and  Arthur  sat  in  the 
hammock  outside  in  the  radiant  moon 
light.  It  seemed  to  Arthur  Pert  had  never 
looked  so  beautiful  before.  Her  large, 
dark  eyes  were  lustrous  ;  and  a  silvery  halo 
played  about  her  soft,  brown  hair,  while 
the  pale  light  gave  the  clear  skin  of  her 
oval  face  the  pallor  of  marble,  save  for  her 
lips,  which  were  the  redder  by  contrast. 

"  Such  a  nice  little  fellow ! "  she  had  ex 
claimed,  as  Sadie  and  Checkers  went  into 
the  house.  "  Who  is  he,  Arthur  ?  Where 
did  he  come  from  ?  " 

Arthur  hesitated  awkwardly.  It  had 
been  his  intention  to  confess  to  Pert  all 
the  circumstances  of  his  last  misadventure,- 


98  CHECKERS 

but  her  few  words  in  praise  of  Checkers 
now  suddenly  emphasized  in  his  mind  the 
thought  that  everything  he  had  to  tell  was 
as  clearly  discreditable  to  himself  as  it  was 
favorable  to  Checkers,  and  he  had  n't  the 
generosity  of  nature  to  put  the  matter  upon 
that  footing. 

Still,  when  upon  several  former  occa 
sions,  he  had  confessed  to  Pert  his  weak 
nesses  and  sins,  there  had  been  a  kindness 
in  her  ready  sympathy,  her  gentle  chiding 
and  disapproval,  which  seemed  to  bring  her 
nearer  to  him  than  she  ever  was  during 
good  behavior.  He  had  found  a  certain 
desperate  pleasure  at  times  in  telling  her 
of  his  misdoings.  It  roused  her,  at  least 
temporarily,  out  of  her  usual  placid  indif 
ference  toward  him  —  an  attitude  to  which 
he  sometimes  felt  that  her  hatred  would 
have  been  preferable. 

As  a  school-girl  of  sixteen,  with  romantic 
tendencies,  Pert  had  entered  upon  the  task 
of  reforming  Arthur,  with  a  childish  belief 
that  the  love  he  professed  for  her,  and 
which  she,  in  a  measure,  returned,  might  be 


CHECKERS  99 

made  a  means  to  an  earnest  and  successful 
endeavor  upon  his  part  to  become  worthy 
ot  her.  But  lapse  after  lapse  had  shaken 
.his  faith,  and  three  years  of  experience 
found  her  with  simply  a  sisterly  pity  for 
this  weak  young  man,  whose  devotion  was 
so  abject  that  he  ceased  to  interest  her, 
and  whose  spasmodic  vices  were  not  of  the 
kind  which  make  some  men  so  darkly 
fascinating. 

And  so  Arthur  hesitated,  debating  rap 
idly  in  his  mind  what  to  say,  what  to  leave 
unsaid.  "Well,  it 's  a  rather  peculiar  story, 
Pert,  although  it  all  happened  naturally 
enough,"  he  answered,  after  a  little  time. 
"  I  went  up  to  Little  Rock  a  few  weeks  ago 
to  see  a  party  on  business.  I  found  when 
I  got  there  that  he  had  gone  to  Hot 
Springs,  and  so  I  followed  him  over  there. 
I  wound  up  the  business  in  a  couple  of 
days,  but,  as  long  as  I  was  there,  I  thought 
I  'd  stay  a  week  or  so  and  take  a  few 
baths. 

"Well,  one  day  in  the  cooling-room  I 
struck  up  a  conversation  with  the  man 


ioo  CHECKERS 

lying  next  to  me,  and  I  '11  pledge  you  mj 
word  I  never  laughed  so  much  in  all  my 
life  as  I  did  that  morning  at  our  little 
friend  here,  who  told  me  a  lot  of  his  hard- 
luck  stories. 

"We  dressed,  and  went  and  had  lunch 
together,  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  dead, 
flat  broke.  He  had  been  'bucking  the 
tiger,'  and  was  waiting  to  hear  from  his 
uncle,  to  whom  he  had  written  for  money. 
I  met  him  again  a  few  days  later,  and  he 
told  me  he  had  n't  heard  a  word  as  yet ; 
that  his  trunk  was  in  hock  at  the  hotel,  and 
altogether  he  was  in  the  deuce  of  a  fix. 
But  he  seemed  so  cheerful  about  it  all  that 
I  could  n't  help  taking  a  liking  to  him,  and 
I  proposed  that  he  come  to  Clarksville 
with  me,  and  take  a  job  in  the  store,  till 
he  heard  from  his  uncle,  or  had  saved 
enough  money  to  get  straightened  out 
again.  He  jumped  at  the  chance,  and 
I  brought  him  along.  He  's  a  first-class 
salesman,  and  jolly  good  company;  but 
I  'm  afraid  he  won  't  stay  with  me  much 
longer ;  he  's  getting  tired  of  the  place 


CHECKERS  101 

already.  I  shall  be  dreadfully  lonesome 
when  he 's  gone. 

"  But  heavens,  Pert ;  how  lonesome  I  've 
been  without  you,  away  at  your  school  all 
these  months.  It  seems  so  good  to  see 
you  here  that  I  can  scarcely  believe  my 
eyes." 

"I  'm  glad  to  be  back  on  some  accounts, 
although  it  grows  horribly  stupid  here." 

"Stupid,  Pert!  It  wouldn't  seem  stu 
pid  to  me  on  a  desert  island,  if  you  were 
there." 

"I  should  n't  care  to  try  it." 

"Pert,  dear,"  Arthur's  voice  grew  tender, 
"  I  want  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  seri 
ously,  and  I  beg  of  you  to  listen  seriously. 
We  are  children  no  longer,  little  girl.  You 
have  finished  with  school,  and  I  have  prac 
tically  assumed  control  of  father's  business. 
I  have  no  new  story  to  tell  you,  but  you 
know  that  I  love  you  and  long  for  you 
now  as  I  have  loved  and  longed  for  you 
for  years. 

"  You  have  been  my  good  angel,  Pert 
It  has  been  my  love  for  you  and  your  influ- 


102  CHECKERS 

ence  over  me  alone  that  has  kept  me  stead 
fast  during  hours  of  terrible  temptation. 
You  know  I  'm  not  naturally  vicious,  Pert ; 
I  must  have  inherited  this  appetite  I  have 
had  to  fight  so  hard  against.  But  I  am 
overcoming  it  —  I  '11  conquer  it,  Pert ;  and 
with  you  to  be  with  me  to  love  me  and  help 
me,  I  '11  make  a  good  man.  I  '11  make  a 
place  and  a  name  in  the  world.  But  I  need 
you,  darling  —  I  love  you,  and  I  'd  rather 
die  than  live  without  you.  We  '11  sell  out 
this  business,  leave  this  place,  and  go  back 
to  the  East  and  civilization  to  live,  where 
there  's  something  to  see  and  to  do.  You 
shall  have  everything,  anything,  dear,  that 
your  heart  desires  —  only  say  that  you  love 
me."  And  bending  nearer,  he  sought  to 
draw  her  to  him  in  a  passionate  embrace. 

Pert  did  not  move  from  her  position  in 
the  hammock  •,  out  firmly  resisted  his  en 
deavor,  and,  taking  his  arm  from  around 
her  waist,  simply  handed  it  back  to  him, 
as  it  were.  (A  maneuvre  upon  a  girl's 
part  more  aggravating,  :n  passant,  than 
any  other  one  thing  she  can  do.) 


CHECKERS  103 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  as  Arthur  stilt 
sat  in  the  hammock  beside  her,  silent  and 
downcast  — "  I  'm  dreadfully  sorry,  Arthur, 
that  you  should  have  brought  this  matter 
up  again.  We  have  been  such  friends  so 
many  years,  and  you  are  such  a  good 
friend,  when  you  are  only  a  friend.  I 
hate  to  wound  you,  if,  indeed,  you  care  for 
me  as  you  say  you  do  ;  but  I  do  n't  love 
you,  Arthur,  in  the  way  you  would  have 
me,  and  I  know  I  never  shall.  It 's  best 
that  I  should  tell  you  this  plainly,  and  I 
know  you  will  be  glad  of  it  in  the  end.  I 
am  not  the  girl  you  think  me,  Arthur. 
You  do  n't  know  me  as  I  really  am.  If 
you  did  you  'd  be  glad  to  have  escaped  so 
luckily.  I  always  try  to  make  a  good  im 
pression,  but  really  I  am  willful,  selfish 
and  discontented.  You  would  be  awfully 
sorry  when  it  was  too  late.  Believe  me,  I 
am  telling  the  truth.  So  let 's  never  talk 
about  this  any  more,  but  be  the  good 
friends  we  have  always  been." 

Arthur  jumped  up  impatiently.  "You 
are  trifling  with  me,  as  you  always  do,"  he 


104  CHECKERS 

said,  with  a  savage  ring  in  his  voice.  "  1 
do  n't  care  what  your  faults  are.  I  want 
you,  just  as  you  are,  to  be  my  wife.  Care 
for  you  as  I  say  I  do  !  I  have  loved  you 
since  we  were  children  together.  I  have 
never  cared  for  any  one  else.  My  every 
thought  has  been  for  your  happiness.  I 
have  never  spared  trouble,  time  or  money 
in  doing  what  I  thought  would  please  you 

—  and  why  do  you  suppose  I  've  done  so  ? 
for  fun  ?  for  glory  ?  for  something  to  pass 
away  time  ?     I  tell  you,  Pert,  I  'm  getting 
mighty  tired  of  this  kind  of  foolishness. 
You    and    I  are   fitted  for  each  other  by 
reason  of  natural  situation,  if  nothing  else. 
What  other  man  is  there  around  here  who 
is   anywhere    near    your   equal,    socially  ? 
What  kind  of  a  life  will  you  lead  cooped 
up  on  this  hillside  farm  as  the  years  go  by  ? 

—  a  living  death,  only  think  of  it ! 
"Your  father  is  willing,  anxious,  that  you 

should  be  married  and  safely  provided  for 

—  I  have  talked  with  him ;  he  has  told  me 
so.     My  father  simply  worships  you,  and 


CHECKERS  105 

nothing  on  earth  would  please  him  so  much 
^s  to  have  you  for  a  daughter-in-law." 

"  But,  Arthur,"  said  Pert,  almost  plead 
ingly,  "  I  have  told  you  how  I  feel  about 
it.  I  don't  love  you,  and  how  can  I 
marry  a  man  I  do  n't  love  ?  I  am  fonder 
of  you,  much  fonder,  than  of  any  other 
man  I  know,  and  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you 
how  bad  I  should  feel  to  lose  your  friend 
ship,  but  —  " 

She  paused  as  a  sound  of  voices  reached 
them,  and  in  a  moment,  to  her  great  relief, 
Sadie  and  Checkers,  with  the  banjo,  came 
round  the  house  and  joined  them. 

One  sweep  of  the  strings,  to  be  sure  it 
was  in  tune,  and  Checkers  tendered  Pert 
the  instrument. 

"  No,  I  shan't  play ;  we  want  to  hear 
you,"  she  laughingly  exclaimed,  putting 
her  hands  behind  her.  "  I  am  only  a 
novice,  and  you  know  the  old  proverb, 
'  The  poor  ye  have  always  with  ye.'  " 

Without  more  ado  Checkers  sat  down 
and  played  a  couple  of  lively  airs. 


io6  CHECKERS 

"  Now,  a  song,"  exclaimed  Pert ;  "  I  am 
sure  that  you  sing." 

"  How  did  you  guess  it  ?  "  asked  Chect 
ers  smiling.     "  Well,  what  shall   it  be,  a 
'  serio-chronic,'  or  a  song  about  some  '  old 
oaken '  thing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  something  funny,  Mr.  Campbell," 
said  Sadie. 

Checkers  sang  a  song  of  an  Irish  dance. 
This  he  followed  with  one  of  the  popular 
ballads  of  the  day,  full  of  melody. 

He  had  a  clear,  high  voice,  with  a  touch 
of  that  boyish  sweetness  in  it,  which  made 
Emmet  so  famous.  A  sweetness  to  which 
the  open  air  and  the  sharpness  of  the  banjo 
added  a  charm. 

The  girls  were  delighted.  They  called 
upon  him  for  song  after  song,  until 
Arthur,  pulling  out  his  watch,  said  ab 
ruptly,  "  It  is  time  to  be  going,"  and  went 
to  untie  the  horses. 

Amid  hearty  hand-shakings  and  cordial 
invitations  to  call  again  soon,  Checkers 
said  good -by,  and  climbed  into  the  buggy 
as  Arthur  drove  up. 


CHECKERS  107 

Down  the  driveway,  out  upon  the  moon 
lit  road,  they  sat.  in  silence.  Each  was  busy 
with  his  own  thoughts.  Arthur  cut  the 
horses  viciously  from  time  to  time  for  no 
apparent  reason.  Checkers  smoked  a 
cigarette  as  though  altogether  pleased  with 
himself.  Arthur  finally  broke  the  spell 
"Well,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  rising  inflec 
tion. 

"A  nice  line  of  girls.  Miss  BarlowTs 
'Class  A'"  answered  Checkers.  "The 
other  one  is  all  right,  too;  but  she  's  just  a 
few  chips  shy  on  looks." 

"  Looks  are  not  the  only  thing  in  the 
world,"  snapped  Arthur  ;  "  beauty 's  only 
skin  deep." 

"  It  might  improve  some  of  our  friends 
a  little  to  skin  'em,  then,  if  that's  so," 
laughed  Checkers.  "That  reminds  me," 
he  continued  musingly,  "of  what  a  friend  of 
mine,  '  Push  '  Miller,  told  me  once.  He 
said  he  never  in  his  life  ran  across  two 
pretty  girls  that  trotted  together.  If  one 
of  'em  was  a  queen,  her  partner  was  safe  to 
be  about  a  nine-spot.  He  figured  that  the 


108  CHECKERS 

pretty  one  used  the  other  as  a  kind  of  foil, 
"vhile  the  homely  one  trailed  along  to  get 
^n  on  the  excess  trade  which  the  pretty  one 
drew,  and  turned  over  to  her." 

As  Arthur  neither  laughed  at,  nor  re 
plied  to,  this  sally,  Checkers  concluded  he 
had  a  grouch,  and  left  him  to  his  own  de 
vices. 

That  night,  upon  going  to  bed,  the  girls, 
as  was  natural,  had  compared  notes,  and 
quickly  discovered  the  apparent  discrep 
ancy  between  Checkers'  statement  to  Mrs. 
Barlow,  and  the  story  Arthur  had  related 
to  Pert. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  know  that  Mr.  Campbell 
has  told  a  deliberate  lie,"  said  Pert,  "  but 
there  is  some  excuse  for  him,  after  all,  for 
any  other  explanation  would  have  been 
embarrassing." 

"Oh,  a  little  thing  like  a  lie  or  two 
does  n't  stand  in  the  way  of  the  average 
man,"  said  Sadie. 

"  Well,  there  is  something  back  of  Ar 
thur's  story,  Sadie,  I  know  from  the  way  he 
hesitated.  We  '11  know  all  about  it  before 


CHECKERS  109 

long,  I  guess.  He  's  an  awfully  cute  little 
fellow,  though,  is  n't  he  ?  I  hope  he  '11 
decide  to  stay  a  while  ;  he  's  such  jolly  good 
company,  and  Arthur's  so  tiresome." 

"  Poor  Arthur  !"  sighed  Sadie. 

"Poor  Pert,"  echoed  Pert. 


VJ 

The  following  afternoon  Arthur  com. 
plained  of  feeling  ill.  On  the  way  home 
from  the  store  he  was  taken  with  a  violent 
chill,  which  was  followed  by  a  raging  fever. 
The  doctor  was  summoned,  and  pro 
nounced  it  malaria,  but  typhoid  symptoms 
developed  later,  and  for  weeks  his  life  hung 
in  the  balance. 

Meanwhile  Checkers  worked  early  and 
late  at  the  store,  to  make  up  for  Arthur's 
absence.  He  felt  this  loss  of  a  companion 
keenly,  and  soon  the  long  drive  home  alone, 
and  the  air  of  apprehension  and  lonesome- 
ness,  which  pervaded  the  house,  became  so 
irksome  to  him  that  he  arranged  to  stay  in 
town  with  Mr.  Bradley,  who  kept  house 
with  a  maiden  sister  in  their  little  home 
just  next  to  the  store. 

It  was  from  this  same  sister,  who  dis- 
no 


CHECKERS  in 

Hked  Arthur,  but  had  taken  to  Checkers, 
as  every  one  did,  that  Pert  at  last  learned 
the  reason  of  Checkers  coming  to  Clarks- 
ville. 

Mr.  Bradley  had  told  his  sister  the  bare 
facts  as  he  had  learned  them  from  Arthurt 
and  these  she  had  enlarged  upon  in  relat 
ing  them  to  Pert,  embellishing  the  story  to 
suit  her  fancy. 

The  discovery  of  this  attempt  upon 
Arthur's  part  to  shield  himself,  and  belittle 
his  friend,  checked  the  growing  pity  and 
tenderness  Pert  felt  for  him  because  of  his 
illness,  and  killed  every  possible  vestige  of 
regard  she  might  have  had  remaining  for 
him.  Checkers,  on  the  contrary,  grew  in 
favor.  He  had  discovered  that  it  was  but 
a  pleasant  and  picturesque  walk  from  town 
to  the  Barlow  place,  and  evening  after 
evening  found  him  seated  under  the  trees 
with  the  girls,  banjo  in  hand,  singing  for 
them,  and  telling  them  interesting  tales  of 
his  many  and  varied  experiences. 

Sadie's  tather  returned,  and  she  went 
back  to  town  to  be  with  him.  But  Check- 


ii2  CHECKERS 

ers  still  took  his  evening  walk  out  the 
country  road,  except  when  Pert  came  in  to 
spend  the  night  with  her  cousin,  as  she 
often  did. 

Under  such  conditions  friendships 
quickly  ripen,  and  Checkers,  at  least,  soon 
found  himself  upon  the  borderland  of  a 
warmer  sentiment ;  but  his  manner  con 
tinued  one  of  purely  good-natured  interest 
and  friendship,  for,  in  spite  of  what  Sadie 
had  told  him,  he  still  felt  that  Pert  be 
longed  to  Arthur. 

One  night  he  stayed  somewhat  later  than 
usual.  It  had  been  dreadfully  hot  all  day, 
but  now  it  was  gratefully  cool.  The  stars 
were  bright,  as  he  had  never  seen  them 
bright  before;  the  scent  of  the  magnolias 
was  delicious,  and  he  and  Pert  had  been 
singing  together.  She  looked  more  than 
sweet  in  her  thin,  white  dress,  and  the 
night,  the  perfume  and  the  music  had 
stirred  him  strangely.  He  longed  for  the 
power  to  tell  her  in  beautiful  words,  he 
knew  not  what.  But  he  had  the  good 


CHECKERS  113 

sense  to  realize  that  he  and  poetry  were 
far  apart.  Nevertheless,  as  he  said  good 
night,  he  held  her  small  white  hand  in  his, 
till  she  forcibly  withdrew  it,  but  not  with 
any  sign  of  anger. 

How  his  heart  swelled  as  he  walked 
along.  How  he  still  thrilled  with  the 
gentle  pressure  he  fancied  he  had  felt  re 
turned.  Here  was  the  faintest  opening  to 
possibilities  which  might  end,  who  could 
tell  where?  He  had  never  before  known  a 
girl  like  this.  In  fact,  with  the  one  ex 
ception  previously  mentioned,  girls  had 
never  in  any  way  entered  his  life.  Still  he 
had  learned  in  his  fight  with  the  world  to 
look  at  everything  from  a  practical  stand 
point,  and  he  had  not  gone  very  far  before 
his  natural  shrewdness  asserted  itself. 

"  It  won't  do,  Campbell,"  he  soliloquized, 
with  an  unconscious  sigh.  "  You  're  '  play 
ing  a  dead  one.'  It 's  a  hundred-to-one 
shot  in  the  first  place,  and  there  is  Arthur 
in  the  second.  I  wonder  how  he  is  to-day. 
I  wonder  if  he 's  going  to  get  well.  If  he 


114  CHECKERS 

should  n't — but,  my  God,  I  hope  he  does 
— ain't  it  awful  what  thoughts  will  come 
to  a  fellow  ? 

"I  wonder  if  he  's  got  her  'nailed;'  she 
does  n't  act  much  like  it  to  me.  But  I 
do  n't  believe  I  'm  acting  on  the  square  to 
try  to  '  do '  him  when  he  ain't  around  to 
look  after  his  trade.  I  '11  go  up  home  to 
morrow  night  and  see  the  old  man,  if  he  's 
able  to  sit  up.  I  had  my  nerve  with  me 
to  hold  her  hand  —  I  wonder  what  she  'd 
have  done  if  I  'd  have  kissed  it?  Gee!  but 
it 's  tough  to  be  on  the  tram,"  he  continued 
with  a  sigh.  "With  a  couple  of  thou.  what 
could  n't  I  do?  But  a  man  without  money 
hasnt  got  'openers;'  he  draws  four  to  a 
queen  and  never  betters." 

He  found  Arthur  convalescent  and  jeal 
ous  of  all  the  time  that  could  be  spared  to 
him.  So,  much  to  Checkers'  disgust,  his 
only  opportunity  of  now  seeing  Pert 
lay  in  her  occasional  visits  to  the  store, 
when  shopping,  generally  accompanied  by 
Sadie. 

As  soon  as  Arthur  was  strong  enough  to 


CHECKERS  115 

be  about  the  house,  Aunt  Deb,  as  a  little 
surprise  for  him,  asked  Sadie  and  Pert  to 
one  o'clock  Sunday  dinner. 

Arthur's  hollow  eyes  beamed  lovingly 
from  his  thin,  pale  face,  as  Pert  entered 
the  room.  Checkers  saw  it,  and  his  con 
science  smote  him.  "I'll  scratch  my 
entry,"  he  inwardly  resolved,  "and  leave 
Arthur  a  walk-over." 

The  afternoon  passed  uneventfully.  The 
day  was  warm,  the  sun  shone  bright,  and 
they  all  sat  under  the  shade  of  the  trees, 
enjoying  the  air  and  the  beautiful  view  of 
the  mountains,  now  made  gorgeous  by  the 
brilliant  and  variegated  colors  of  the 
changing  autumn  leaves. 

Pert  so  managed  that  she  was  not  left 
alone  with  Arthur  at  any  time,  and  she 
and  Sadie  left  somewhat  early  in  order  to 
reach  home  well  before  dark. 

After  their  departure  Checkers  and  Ar 
thur  sat  together  in  the  hammock.  Arthur 
was  monosyllabic.  Checkers  talked  for  a 
while  against  time,  but  not  with  any  bril 
liant  success.  "  Come,  '  smoke  up,'  old 


n6  CHECKERS 

man  —  you  're  going  out ! "  he  exclaimed, 
slapping  Arthur  on  the  back,  a  figure 
doubtless  suggested  to  him  by  the  dying 
cigarette-stump  between  his  fingers. 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had  '  gone  out; ' 
instead  of  getting  well,"  was  the  answer,  "I 
am  no  good  to  myself,  nor  to  any  one  else, 
and  the  only  being  in  the  world  I  love,  ex 
cept  my  father,  cares  no  more  for  me  than 
she  does  for  a  yellow  dog." 

There  was  an  embarrassing  silence. 

"  Girls  are  funny,"  said  Checkers,  mus 
ingly. 

Arthur  saw  no  grounds  for  argument, 
and  Checkers  continued,  "  I  never  had 
much  time  for  them,  myself,  but  my  friend 
'Push  '  Miller  had  them  coming  his  way  in 
carriages.  You  never  saw  such  a  fellow  for 
girls;  he  always  had  three  or  four  on  his 
staff.  He  used  to  play  a  system  on  them. 
I  think  he  called  it  the  Fabian  System, 
-cfter  some  old  joker  in  the  war,  who  used 
to  win  his  battles  by  running  away.  You 
see,  the  other  guys  would  come  chasing 
after  this  joker,  and  when  he  got  them 


CHECKERS  117 

where  he  wanted,  he'd  go  out  and  nail 
them  —  easy  thing. 

"Well,  this  Fabian  System  was  a  dead 
sure  winner  for  Push,  and  if  I  were  you, 
I  'd  try  it.  The  next  time  you  get  to 
gether,  'jolly  up'  Sadie.  Don't  push  it 
too  strong;  but  just  enough  so  that  Pert 
will  notice  it  —  she'll  get  jealous.  'Jolly' 
Sadie  harder,  but  be  polite  to  Pert,  and 
pretty  soon  you  '11  have  her  guessing.  The 
chances  are  that  before  long  she  '11  make  a 
play  at  you  —  give  her  the  frozen  face. 
Put  up  a  talk  about  how  much  you  used  to 
love  her;  work  in  something  about  the 
past,  and  what  might  have  been.  But  keep 
a  little  up  your  sleeve  ;  you  do  n't  want  her 
to  think  you  're  coming  too  easy,  and  after 
things  are  all  fixed  up,  do  n't  treat  her  too 
well  again.  Push  used  to  say  '  there  was 
nothing  that  really  spoiled  a  girl  like  treat 
ing  her  too  well.'  He  used  to  make  a 
date  every  once  in  a  while,  and  then  break 
it  without  sending  any  excuse,  just  to  show 
the  girl  that  he  was  'good  people,'  and 
teach  her  to  have  a  proper  respect  for  him." 


u8  CHECKERS 

Arthur  smiled  wearily.  "  Yes  ; "  he 
said,  "  that  may  have  done  all  very  well  for 
Push,  but  it  would  n't  do  for  me.  The 
girl  does  n't  love  me,  and  there 's  the  end 
of  it.  Perhaps  some  day  —  well,  there's 
no  use  discussing  it ;  besides,  it  would  n't 
be  fair  to  Sadie  to  use  her  merely  as  a 
cat's-paw.  She  is  a  true  little  girl,  with  a 
big,  warm  heart,  and  I  would  n't  deceive 
her  for  the  world." 

"  Well,  what 's  the  matter  with  going  out 
after  Sadie  in  earnest,  then  ? "  said 
Checkers.  "Now  there's  a  scheme  that 
fixes  things  up  all  around."  Checkers 
waxed  enthusiastic. 

Arthur  did  not  reply  immediately. 
"Sadie  is  an  earnest,  capable  girl,"  he 
said  at  length,  "and  she'll  make  some 
man  a  splendid  wife.  I  would  cheerfully 
recommend  her  to  my  very  best  friend,  but 


"  But  your  friend  could  have  her  without 
a  struggle,"  suggested  Checkers ;  and  then 
they  both  laughed. 

This,  Checkers  afterwards  told  me  was 


CHECKERS  119 

the  nearest  approach  to  a  joke  he  ever 
heard  Arthur  make. 

A  week  passed  by  uneventfully.  Arthur 
continued  to  improve  in  health.  Checkers 
drove  home  each  evening  tired  from  his 
hard  day's  work.  Saturday  night  a  note 
from  Pert  arrived,  inviting  them  both  to 
dinner  on  the  following  day  ;  a  return  of 
courtesies  which  they  accepted  with 
pleasure. 

Sadie  drove  up  that  morning  to  spend  a 
day  or  two  with  her  cousin.  The  dinner 
passed  off  pleasantly,  and  in  the  afternoon 
the  four  took  a  stroll  through  the  neigh 
boring  woods,  to  a  beautiful  spot  where 
from  the  top  of  a  cliff  of  massive  rock  they 
could  gaze  for  miles  up  the  dark,  thickly 
wooded  ravine,  lying  sheer  many  feet 
below. 

Sadie  and  Arthur  walked  off  together. 
Checkers  and  Pert  followed  leisurely. 

"  Do  you  think  you  deserve  to  be  treated 
so  well,  after  neglecting  me  as  you  have 
lately?"  asked  Pert. 

"  I  have  n't  been  able  to  get  here,  Miss 


120  CHECKERS 

Pert,"  replied  Checkers.  "  The  Broadway 
cable  is  n't  in  it  with  the  way  I  've  been 
pulling  to  get  away ;  but  if  Arthur  had 
known  I  was  coming  here,  we  would  only 
have  had  a  speaking  acquaintance.  I  '11 
tell  you,  Miss  Pert,  that  poor  boy  is  all 
broke  up  about  you,  and  to  come  down  to 
cases,  it  ain't  very  safe  for  me  to  be  seeing 
so  much  of  you,  when  —  well,  you  know 
he  saw  you  first,  and  the  rights  of  property 


"Now,  listen  to  me,"  interrupted  Pert, 
with  a  stamp  of  her  foot,  "  Arthur  is 
nothing  to  me ;  I  do  n't  love  him  and  I 
shall  never  marry  him.  I  've  told  him  so, 
and  I  '11  tell  you  so.  I  've  enjoyed  having 
you  call  here  very  much,  and  there 's  no 
reason  why  you  should  n't  come  —  unless, 
of  course,  you  would  rather  not." 

Ahead,  Arthur  was  carefully  help 
ing  Sadie  over  a  fallen  tree  which  lay 
across  the  path.  "  He  's  playing  the  sys 
tem,  after  all,"  thought  Checkers,  "I'll 
help  him  push  it  along.  May  I  come 


CHECKERS  121 

co-morrow   night  ?  "    he   said  ;    "  it 's  the 
first  night  I  've  got  disengaged." 

"Certainly,"  laughed  Pert.  "Sadie  is 
going  to  stay  until  Tuesday  morning, 
and—" 

"  Make  it  Tuesday  night." 

Pert  assented  with  an  audible  chuckle. 

And  now  they  had  come  to  the  fallen 
tree,  an  ancient  pine  of  huge  dimensions. 
Checkers  clambered  atop  of  it,  and, 
taking  both  of  Pert's  hands,  pulled  her  up ; 
then,  from  the  other  side,  he  supported 
her  tenderly  as  she  jumped  to  the  ground. 
'Twas  a  rapturous  moment.  The  fair, 
sweet  face  above  him,  and  the  bright, 
roguish  eyes  looking  down  into  his ;  the 
warm,  red  lips,  half  parted  in  a  smile,  and 
coming  so  near  as  he  carefully  lowered 
her,  tempted  him  sorely.  But  he  resisted  ; 
not  from  any  strength  of  virtue,  but  be 
cause  he  did  not  dare  to  do  otherwise. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Pert.    Checkers  was 
silent.     His  emotions  of  mingled  excite 
ment  and  regret  were  such  that  he  could 


122  CHECKERS 

not  trust  his  voice ;  but  as  they  drew  neat 
to  where  Arthur  and  Sadie  were  sitting,  he 
purposely  drew  away  from  Pert,  and 
feigned  a  look  of  general  indifference, 
which  was  masterly  in  its  way. 

"  I  may  possibly  stay  down  to-night, 
Arthur,"  called  Checkers,  as  he  drove  out 
of  the  door-yard  Tuesday  morning. 

Tuesday  night  found  him  seated  with 
Pert  in  the  cozy,  old-fashioned  little  sitting- 
room,  before  the  blazing  embers  of  a  large, 
wood  fire,  for  it  had  suddenly  turned  cold. 

Checkers  had  brought  up  the  illustrated 
papers,  and  with  these  and  the  banjo,  with 
nuts  and  apples,  pop-corn  and  cider,  for 
refection,  time  sped  merrily  on. 

Now,  just  how  it  all  came  about  that 
night,  Checkers  never  adequately  explained 
to  me.  He  always  claimed,  shamefacedly, 
to  have  a  confused  recollection  of  the  mat 
ter.  But  suffice  it  to  say,  there  came  an 
opportunity,  and,  forgetting  his  former 
resolutions,  forgetting  his  poverty — every 
thing,  he  told  as  best  he  could  the  story  of 
his  love  to  the  listening  girl  beside 


CHECKERS  123 

What  matter  how  he  told  it  ?  She  cared 
not  for  that,  so  long  as  the  tale  rang  true 
to  her  ears ;  and  of  Checkers'  whole 
hearted  sincerity,  there  was  never  a  doubt, 
as  after  events  proved. 

The  strangeness  of  a  woman's  love  has 
been  a  prolific  source  of  wonder  and  re 
mark  for  philosophers  of  every  age.  It 
should  not,  therefore,  seem  incongruous 
that  Checkers,  penniless,  slangy,  illiterate, 
should  have  won,  in  a  few,  short  weeks,  the 
love  of  a  girl  whom  Arthur,  a  higher  type, 
from  a  worldly  standpoint,  had  tried  for 
years  to  make  his  own,  without  success. 
Perhaps  the  explanation  lay  in  the  fact 
that  Checkers  possessed  two  qualities  in 
which  Arthur  was  wholly  lacking  —  tact 
and  magnetism ;  and  again,  Pert  was  too 
young  and  inexperienced  to  let  worldly 
advantages  weigh  with  her. 

At  all  events,  they  sat  there  together, 
blissful  in  their  new-found  happiness,  talk 
ing  the  love  all  lovers  talk,  and  heedless  ot 
the  speeding  hours. 

As  Checkers  rather  coyly  put  it,  "  There 


124  CHECKERS 

was  n't  very  much  room  in  the  room." 
The  fire  had  died  almost  to  ashes,  and  for 
the  hundredth  time  he  had  said,  "  I  must 
go,"  when  suddenly  he  was  jerked  from 
his  seat  by  a  rough  hand  which  had  laid 
hold  of  his  collar. 

With  a  violent  effort  he  broke  away,  and, 
turning  about,  faced  Mr.  Barlow. 

"  So  ! "  snorted  the  old  man,  angrily, 
"  so  this  is  what  ye  're  doin',  is  it,  settin' 
here  philanderin'?  I  reckoned  somethin' 
was  gcin'  on.  You  go  to  yer  room,  girl ; 
come,  git  along.  And  you,  my  young  jack- 
snipe,  mosey  off  afore  I  wear  ye  out  with  a 
switch." 

Checkers'  surprise  had  been  so  complete 
that  for  a  moment  he  could  not  collect 
himself.  Then  such  was  his  sense  of  anger 
at  the  indignity  that  had  been  put  upon 
him  that  only  Pert's  hand  upon  his  arm 
restrained  him  from  making  a  fight  of  it. 
As  it  was,  the  two  men  stood  with  an  arm 
chair  between  them,  grimly  glaring  at  each 
other. 

"Father,"  cried  Pert,  peeping  timidly 


CHECKERS  125 

from  behind  Checkers,  "  Mr.  Campbell  and 
I  are  engaged  to  be  married." 

"  To  be  what  ?  "  howled  the  old  man, 
dancing  with  rage. 

"To  be  married,"  said  Checkers.  "Now, 
listen  to  me,  and  don't  you  get  so  gay 
with  yourself.  I  love  your  daughter  ;  she 
loves  me  ;  we  are  going  to  be  married,  and 
that 's  the  end  of  it." 

Checkers  stepped  back.  It  was  well  that 
he  did,  for  the  old  man  suddenly  reached 
for  him,  "  and  if  he  'd  have  got  me,"  said 
Checkers,  afterwards,  relating  the  incident 
to  me,  "  he  would  n't  have  done  a  thing  to 
me.  We  made  a  few  laps  around  the  room," 
he  continued,  "  with  the  chairs  and  table 
in  the  middle.  The  old  man  ran  a  bang- 
up  second,  but  he  was  'carrying  weight 
for  age,'  and  I  fouled  him  in  the  stretch, 
by  pulling  a  rocker  in  the  way,  that  he 
stumbled  over;  then,  I  opened  the  door, 
kissed  Pert  good  by,  grabbed  my  hat,  and 
did  the  slide  for  the  road.  The  old  jokei 
tried  to  '  sic '  the  dogs  on  me,  but  they 
knew  me  so  well  they  would  n't  '  sic.'  " 


126  CHECKERS 

It  had  long  been  a  pet  scheme  of  Mr. 
Barlow's  to  marry  Pert  to  Arthur  Kendall. 
In  fact,  he  considered  the  matter  settled, 
and  had  often  congratulated  himself  upon 
his  prospects  of  securing  a  wealthy  son-in- 
law.  The  presumption,  therefore,  of  this 
"  little  pauper  "  drove  him  nearly  beside 
himself. 

Pert  thought  it  wise  to  spend  most  of 
her  time  in  her  room  next  day,  until  the 
first  burst  of  his  anger  should  have  sub 
sided. 

As  Checkers  drove  home  the  following 
evening,  he  was  met  by  Tobe,  the  hired 
man,  about  a  mile  from  the  house.  "  Hello, 
Tobe,"  he  called,  "  what 's  up?" 

"  Thar 's  hell  out,  Mr.  Checkers,"  said 
Tobe. 

"Has  old  Barlow  been  up  here?' 

"  He  ain't  gone  two  hours." 

Checkers  smiled.  He  was  glad  to  know 
the  worst.  "  I  suppose  I  'm  not  very  popu 
lar  with  Arthur?" 

"  He  swars  he  '11  fill  ye  full  o'  lead.  I 
overheern  the  hull  conversation  atween 


CHECKERS  127 

'em,  and  I  'lowed  I  'd  come  down  and  warn 
ye.  Mr.  Kendall  and  Aunt  Deb  's  gone  to 
Little  Rock,  and  won't  be  back  afore  to 
morrow  night." 

"  Thank  you,  Tobe;  get  in  and  ride." 

"Wai,  till  we  gits  in  sight  o'  the  house; 

but  do  n't  you  'low  you  'd  better  go  back  ?  " 

"  No;  I  '11  go  on  and  face  the  music." 

"Thar  never  was  nawthin'  but  trouble 

come  o'  foolin'  with  women,  anyhow,"  said 

Tobe.     "  I  've  had  four  on  'em  in  my  time, 

and  they've  worn  the  soul-case  off'n  me.'1 

"  Four!  "  exclaimed  Checkers. 

"  Yes,  I  've  had   four.     My  first  woman 

spent   me   out   o'    house   and  home,  and 

then  run  away  —  I   was  glad  to  get  shet 

o'   her.      The  second  un  I  jest  nachally 

could  n't  live  with,  she  hed  sech  a  pizen-bad 

temper;  and  I  've  had  two  others  to  die  on 

me.  I  've  worked  like  a  nigger  airnin'  'em 

money  fer  cloes,  and  doctor's  bills  and  sich, 

and  not  one  on  'era  but  what  'ud  claim  she 

wa'n't    well  treated.      The    trouble    with 

women  is  that  a  man  takes  and  treats  'em  so 

well  when  he 's  a-courtin'  of  'em,  that  after 


128  CHECKERS 

they  're  married,  plain,  ordinary,  every-day 
treatment  seems  like  cruelty  to  'em." 

This  was  a  phase  of  the  woman  question 
which  had  never  before  occurred  to  Check 
ers;  but  the  weight  of  suspense  at  his  heart 
prevented  his  encouraging  Tobe  to  further 
reminiscence. 

As  he  drove  into  the  door-yard,  Arthur 
came  out  of  the  house,  trembling  and  pale 
with  anger  and  excitement. 

"Hello,  Arthur?"  called  Checkers, 
cheerily. 

"Traitor,  hypocrite,"  was  the  answer; 
"how  can  you  look  me  in  the  face?" 

"  Oh,  get  used  to  it." 

"  Ha!  you  make  a  jest  of  it,  do  you?" 

"  Of  what,  your  face?  " 

Arthur  grew  livid.  "  It 's  easy  and  safe 
for  you  to  taunt  a  man  who  is  just  recover 
ing  from  a  weakening  sickness,"  he  said. 
"  If  it  were  n't  for  my  father,  I  'd  shoot  you 
like  the  cur  that  you  are,  if  I  hanged  for 
it." 

Checkers  jumped  to  the  ground.  "Now, 
look  here,  Arthur  Kendall,"  he  said  threat- 


CHECKERS  129 

eningly.  "I  won't  stand  any  such  talk 
from  any  one.  If  you  're  making  your  roar 
about  Miss  Barlow,  and  I  suppose  you  are, 
I '11  tell  you  this;  The  girl  doesn't  love 
you  and  never  did,  and  why  you  should 
want  to  do  the  dog-in-the-manger  act  is 
more  than  I  can  see." 

"No;  of  course  she  doesn't  love  me,  if 
a  sneaking  Judas  goes  and  betrays  me  to 
her." 

"  I  never  mentioned  your  name  to  her, 
unless  it  was  to  say  something  good  about 
you." 

"  You  lie!  You  told  her  all  about  our 
affair  at  Hot  Springs." 

"  I  did  no  such  thing." 

"You  did.  She  told  her  father  about 
it,  and  he  told  me  this  very  afternoon." 

"  Did  he  say  I  told  her?  " 

"Who  else  could  have  told  her?  do  you 
think  I  told  her?  " 

"  I  do  n't  know,  and,  what 's  more,  I  do  n't 
care  a  damn.  I  do  n't  want  any  trouble 
with  you,  but  I  have  n't  got  the  temper  of 
*n  angel,  and  I  'd  advise  you  to  take  a 


i3o  CHECKERS 

tumble  to  yourself  until  I  'm  gone — and 
that  won't  be  longer  than  it  takes  me  to 
get  my  stuff  into  my  trunk." 

"  It  can't  be  any  too  quick  to  suit  me." 

Checkers    started    for    the    house,   but 

stopped  half-way,  and  turned  for  a  parting 

word,  while  Arthur  stood  still,  and  eyed 

him  malignantly. 

"Now,  listen,  Arthur  Kendall,"  sa;d 
Checkers  earnestly;  "  and  these  are  the 
last  words  I  'm  going  to  say.  I  've  been 
on  the  square  with  you  from  the  day  I  met 
you,  and  if  our  positions  were  reversed,  I  'd 
take  you  by  the  hand  and  wish  you  all 
kinds  of  happiness,  but  as  it  is,  you  show 
the  yellow  streak  I  always  thought  you  had 
in  you — it's  wider  than  I  thought  it  was, 
that 's  all..  But  just  keep  saying  this  over 
to  yourself:  '  I  love  that  girl  and  I  'm 
going  to  have  her,  in  spite  of  her  father, 
or  you,  or  the  world.' "  And  turning  on 
his  heel,  Checkers  went  into  the  house  to 
collect  his  few,  poor,  little  belongings. 


VII. 

That  same  night  Pert,  after  another 
stormy  interview  with  her  father,  had  gone 
to  her  roorr.,  and,  throwing  herself  on  her 
little  white  bed,  in  a  paroxysm  of  bitter 
grief,  had  softly  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

Gradually  into  her  d/ earns  there  came 
the  whistled  notes  oS  a  familiar  little 
cadence,  faint  and  far  away  at  first,  but 
growing  louder  and  nearer  until  she  awoke 
with  a  start. 

It  was  "  a  whistle  "  which  Checkers  had 
taught  her  weeks  before,  and  ran  as  follows: 

-JV-- 


Come,    my      love,     and     walk    with 


walk    with     thee. 


Ta  •  ra  -  dura. 


132  CHECKERS 

At  this  time,  however,  Checkers,  standing 
down  in  the  road  outside,  had  cut  the  "ta- 
ra-dum "  as  flippant  and  irrelevant  —  a 
delicacy  which,  in  her  trepidation,  Pert 
failed  to  remark.  But,  jumping  up,  she 
lighted  her  lamp,  and  cautiously  exposed 
it  at  the  window  for  a  moment  Then, 
thanking  fortune  that  she  chanced  to  be 
dressed,  she  slipped  a  warm  wrap  over  her 
shoulders,  and  stole  down  the  stairs,  out 
into  the  night. 

Checkers  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and 
kissed  her  gently.  "  My  darling,"  he  mur 
mured,  "you  haven't  let  them  turn  you 
against  me,  have  you  ?  " 

"Why,  Checkers  dear,"  she  answered, 
looking  into  his  eyes,  "  the  whole  world 
couldn't  turn  me  against  you  —  I  love 
you."  Checkers  kissed  her  again. 

In  the  bright  starlight  they  sat  together, 
once  more  on  the  little  rustic  bench  under 
the  tree,  listening  with  ready  sympathy,  as 
each  related  to  each  the  trials  of  the  day. 

"No,  little  sweetheart,"  said  Checkers 
finally,  "  there  is  no  possible  way  for  me 


CHECKERS          133 

to  stay  in  Clarksville.  The  old  man  is 
practically  right,  I  am  a  pauper,  but  I  won't 
be  long.  Pert,  I  can  hustle,  when  I  want 
to;  I've  got  enough  money  to  take  me  to 
Chicago,  and  keep  me  till  I  can  get  a  job* 
When  I  get  to  work  I  '11  salt  every  cent, 
and  with  any  kind  of  luck,  I  '11  come  back 
and  get  you  within  a  year.  A  year  is  not 
such  a  very  long  while."  And  with  a  show 
of  genuine  enthusiasm,  Checkers  ended  by 
talking  the  downcast  girl  into  a  happy 
confidence  in  himself  and  the  future. 

"  And  now,  Pert,"  he  said,  solicitously, 
"  it 's  too  cold  for  you  to  stay  out  here 
longer ;  come,  we  must  be  brave,  and  say 
good-bye." 

"O,  Checkers,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
choking  sob,  suddenly  throwing  her  arms 
around  his  neck,  "  I  can't  bear  to  let  you 
go  ;  I  shall  be  miserable,  miserable  without 
/ou." 

Tenderly  Checkers  soothed  and  reasoned 
with  her.  Once  more  their  plans  were 
gone  over.  Checkers  was  to  leave  in  the 
morning  for  Chicago.  He  was  to  write  to 


134  CHECKERS 

her  a?  often  as  possible,  addressing  the 
letters  to  Sadie,  whom  Pert  knew  she  could 
depend  upon.  Checkers  was  to  bend  every 
effort  towards  getting  a  position  and  sav 
ing  money  ;  and  Pert  was  to  be  brave,  and 
wait — the  common  lot  of  women. 

With  his  arm  around  her,  lovingly,  he 
led  her  slowly  to  the  house.  Again  and 
again  they  said  good-bye ;  but  there  is 
something  in  the  word  which  makes  us 
linger. 

"Some  little  keepsake,  sweetheart,"  he 
whispered — "this  ribbon,  or  your  hand 
kerchief." 

"No ;  wait  here  a  minute,"  she  answered. 
Carefully  entering  the  house,  she  crept  to 
her  room,  and  from  its  hiding-place  brought 
forth  a  fifty-dollar  gold  piece.  It  was  of 
California  gold,  octagonal  in  shape,  and 
minted  many  years  before. 

"  Here,  dear,"  she  said,  returning  noise 
lessly.  "  Here  is  a  coin  that  was  given  me 
long  ago  by  my  grandfather  —  take  it  as  a 
lucky-piece.  And  whenever  you  see  it, 
think  of  one  who  loves  you  and  is  praying 


CHECKERS  135 

for  you.  And,  Checkers,  if  you  should 
have  misfortune,  and  should  really  need  to; 
do  n't  hesitate  to  spend  it ;  because,  you 
see,  if  you  do  n't  have  good  luck,  so  that 
you  do  n't  need  to  spend  it,  why  it  is  n't  ? 
lucky  piece,  and  you  'd  better  get  rid  of  it 
• — that  is,  if  —  if  you  have  to." 

Checkers  embraced  her  passionately. 
"  My  darling,"  he  protested,  "  I  shall  have 
to  be  nearer  starving  to  death  than  I  've 
ever  been,  or  expect  to  be,  before  I  part 
with  this.  I  shall  treasure  it  as  a  keepsake 
from  the  dearest,  sweetest,  prettiest,  sandi 
est  girl  in  the  world ;  the  one  that  I  love 
and  the  one  that  loves  me;  and  here  — 
here 's  a  scarfpin  that  once  was  my  father's. 
They  say  opals  are  unlucky.  Well,  fathergot 
shot,  but  I  wore  it  the  lucky  day  I  met 
you  ;  so  that  does  n't  prove  anything  — 
wear  it  for  my  sake.  Now,  dear,  I  must  go. 
Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  do  n't  let  the 
«ld  man  get  in  his  bluff  on  you.  Win  your 
mother  over — she'll  help  you  out.  I 
think  she  likes  me  ;  I  am  sure  I  do  her. 
I  '11  write  to  you  every  day.  Good-bye, 


136  CHECKERS 

my  precious  —  I  '11  be  back  for  you  soon  ; 
good-bye,  good-bye." 

One  last  fond  embrace,  one  lingering 
kiss,  and  Checkers  turned  and  walked 
resolutely  away. 

The  next  morning  early  he  bid  the 
Bradleys  a  sorrowful  farewell,  and  boarded 
the  train  for  Little  Rock.  Mr.  Bradley 
gave  him  letters  to  a  number  of  merchants 
there,  but  he  was  unable  to  find  employ 
ment.  In  fact,  he  only  sought  it  in  a  half 
hearted  way ;  Little  Rock  was  too  small, 
too  near  Clarksville.  Chicago  was  his 
Mecca.  He  felt  a  happy  presentiment 
that  once  there  circumstances  would  some 
how  solve  for  him  the  problem  of  exist 
ence.  But,  alas,  for  vain  hopes !  Day 
after  day,  from  door  to  door,  he  sought 
employment  without  success.  The  answers 
he  received  to  his  inquiries  for  work  were 
ever  the  same:  "Business  was  dull;  they 
were  reducing  rather  than  increasing  their 
forces;  sorry,  but  if  anything  turned  up 
they  would  let  him  know."  At  times  he 
received  just  enough  encouragement  to 


CHECKERS  137 

make  his  eventual  failure  the  more  dis« 
heartening  and  cruel. 

How  could  he  write  to  Pert  under  such 
circumstances?  At  first  it  had  not  been 
so  hard ;  but  now  he  had  put  it  off  from 
day  to  day,  dreading  to  tell  her  of  his  non- 
success,  always  hoping  that  surely  to-mor 
row  he  must  have  good  news,  until  fully  a 
week  elapsed  in  which  he  had  not  written. 
How  troublesome  a  thing  is  pride  —  to  the 
poor. 

In  the  course  of  his  wanderings  he  came 
across  numbers  of  the  old  companions  of 
his  pool-room  days.  Few  of  them  had 
changed,  but  for  the  worse.  Most  of  them 
were  penniless,  hungry  and  threadbare,  but 
still  the  victims  of  the  hopeless  vice,  and 
whenever  fortune  threw  in  their  way  a  dol 
lar,  it  went  into  the  insatiable  maw  of 
the  race-tracks.  Checkers  noted  and  was 
warned ;  and  to  their  earnest  solicitations 
to  "play  their  good  things"  he  pointed 
them  to  their  own  condition  —  a  pertinent 
and  unanswerable  argument. 

But   though   never  so  careful  the  time 


138  CHECKERS 

came  apace  when  his  little  hoard  was  all 
but  exhausted.  His  treasured  keepsake  he 
still  vowed  nothing  should  make  him  part 
with.  "  If  I  've  got  to  starve,"  he  grimlj 
resolved,  "  it  might  as  well  be  a  week  01 
two  earlier  as  later  —  but  I  '11  keep  Pert'i 
gold  piece." 

That  same  day  he  received  from  Pert  a 
letter  full  of  encouragement,  but  pleading 
with  him,  as  he  loved  her,  to  write.  "  All 
in  the  world  that  I  have  to  look  forward  to 
now,  Checkers,  dear,"  she  said,  "  is  your 
letters ;  and  you  can  't  imagine  how  disap 
pointed  I  am,  and  how  I  worry  for  fear 
you  are  sick,  or  something,  as  the  days  go 
by,  and  no  word  comes  from  you." 

Standing  by  the  window  in  his  dismal 
boarding-house  room  Checkers  read  the 
letter  over  and  over.  Meditatively  he  ex 
amined  his  pockets  —  nothing!  nothing 
but  the  gold  piece.  Something  must  be 
done.  There  were  a  number  of  garments 
hanging  on  the  wall,  among  them  an  over 
coat.  "I  can  do  without  that,"  he  said, 
with  a  shiver. 


CHECKERS  139 

Half  an  hour  later,  richer  by  a  few  pieces 
of  silver,  he  stood  in  a  telegraph- office, 
penning  a  message  to  Pert.  "Letter  re 
ceived,"  he  wrote.  "Am  well,  but  no 
iuck.  Will  write  to-day.  Checkers." 

Beside  him  as  he  wrote,  stood  a  man 
whom  he  recognized  —  one  Brown,  an 
owner  of  a  racing-stable.  With  the  tail  of 
his  eye  Checkers  read  what  he  was  writing. 
It  was  a  telegram  to  some  one  in  St.  Louis, 
and  ran  :  "  Stand  a  tap  on  the  mare  to 
day.  She  can't  lose."  Checkers'  heart 
was  in  his  mouth.  Instantly  his  resolution 
was  taken.  Out  into  the  street  he  followed 
Brown.  With  the  furtive  care  of  a  Hack- 
shaw  he  shadowed  him  in  and  out  of  hotels 
and  saloons,  until  about  noon  they  brought 
tip  at  a  restaurant,  where  Checkers  mod 
estly  seated  himself  at  a  table  behind  Brown 
and  ordered  a  light  repast.  But  Brown  was 
hungry,  and  Checkers  had  ample  time  to 
think  the  thing  over.  "  I  'm  in  luck  at 
last,"  he  soliloquized.  "  Stand  a  tap  on 
the  mare  1  His  friend  will  play  it  in 
the  foreign -book  at  East  St.  Lou'o  and 


140  CHECKERS 

he  '11  play  it  at  the  track.  It  must  be  a 
'hot  one' — I  wonder  what  the  odds  will 
be.  Well,  I  '11  keep  this  can  't-shake-me 
glide  on  my  feet  till  I  see  what  he  plays, 
and  then  'get  down*  on  it  myself.  I  '11 
put  up  the  gold -piece,  and  stand  to  either 
lose  it  or  make  a  stake  for  myself.  Some 
how  I  'd  feel  better  to  have  it  go  in  one  last 
effort  to  make  a  killin'  than  to  spend  it  a 
quarter  at  a  time  on  sandwiches  and  cigar 
ettes.  To-night  I  '11  either  be  able  to 
write  to  Pert  that  my  luck  has  turned,  or 
I  '11  know  the  worst,  and  that  's  some  com 
fort.  Ah,  Brown  's  paying  his  bill  at  last." 

The  summer  meeting  at  Washington 
Park,  with  large  purses  and  high- class 
horses,  was  over  and  gone.  But  there  were 
other  tracks  where  racing  was  carried  on 
all  the  fall  and  most  of  the  winter ; 
gambling-hells,  pure  and  simple,  or  rather, 
purely  and  simply  gambling-hells,  which 
the  Legislature  has  since  effectively  closed. 

In  the  betting-ring  of  one  of  these,  that 
afternoon,  Checkers  threaded  his  way 
through  the  crowd  after  Brown.  The  pro- 


CHECKERS  141 

gramme  showed  that  Brown  had  an  entry 
in  the  last  race —  Remorse,  an  aged  selling- 
plater.  Checkers  remembered  the  horse 
as  one  that  had  shown  considerable  speed 
as  a  three-year-old.  He  glanced  at  the 
programme  again :  Remorse,  by  Gambler, 
dam  Sweetheart.  Was  it  an  omen  ?  Re 
morse  would  certainly  follow  if  he  gambled 
away  the  keepsake  which  his  sweetheart 
had  given  him.  But  would  n't  an  equally 
poignant  regret  possess  him  if  after  this 
providential  tip  he  failed  to  play  the 
horse  and  she  won  ?  He  felt  that  it 
would. 

The  fourth  race  was  on,  and  the  last 
was  approaching.  Brown  stood  at  the 
edge  of  the  ring,  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
smoking  idly.  The  official  results  of  the 
fourth  were  announced,  and  the  book 
makers  tacked  up  the  entries  for  the  last. 
Still,  Brown  seemed  nonchalant. 

Checkers  anxiously  watched  the  posting 
of  the  odds.  "  Remorse,  four  to  one,"  he 
exclaimed  under  his  breath.  Brown  also 
glanced  at  the  blackboards  —  and  lighted 


142  CHECKERS 

a  fresh  cigar.  Every  minute  some  one 
would  buttonhole  him,  and  ask,  "  How 
about  Remorse  ? "  "  O,  she 's  got  a 
chance,"  he  would  answer,  with  a  shrug 
which  seemed  to  indicate  that  she  had  no 
chance. 

The  favorite,  under  a  heavy  play,  was 
rapidly  cut  to  even  money,  while  the  odds 
on  the  others  were  correspondingly  in 
creased.  Remorse  went  to  five  and  six  to 
one.  Brown  took  fifty  dollars  out  of  his 
pocket,  and,  going  up  to  a  prominent  book 
maker,  played  —  the  favorite.  Checkers 
was  paralyzed.  The  same  performance 
Brown  repeated  with  another  book-maker 
on  the  other  side  of  the  ring.  Gradually 
Remorse's  price  went  up  to  eight  to  one,  as 
it  became  generally  known  that  her  owner 
was  not  playing  her. 

The  favorite's  odds  went  to  "four  to 
five,"  and  Checkers  fingered  his  gold  piece 
nervously.  One  book-maker  still  laid  even 
money.  Here  was  his  chance  if  he  wanted 
to  play  it.  He  started  forward,  and 
stopoed.  As  he  hesitated.  Brown  sauntered 


CHECKERS  143 

out  of  the  ring.  Checkers  followed  me 
chanically. 

From  a  distance  he  saw  Brown  meet  two 
hors'emen  and,  after  a  brief  conversation, 
give  them  each  a  roll  of  bills.  He  saw 
these  two  enter  the  betting-ring  and,  tak 
ing  opposite  sides,  "  start  down  the  line  " 
on  Remorse ;  then  the  scheme  was  re 
vealed  to  him. 

From  stand  to  stand  they  went,  betting 
Remorse  in  ^ach  book,  ten  and  twenty 
dollars  at  a  time ;  not  enough  to  cause  re 
mark,  but  amounting  to  hundreds  in  the 
aggregate.  Gradually  the  odds  began  to 
recede.  Checkers  rushed  to  the  other  end 
of  the  ring.  "  Gimme  Remorse  !  "  he  ex 
claimed,  excitedly,  handing  his  gold-piece 
to  a  convenient  blockman. 

"  What  the  'ell 's  this  ?"  asked  the  won 
dering  book-maker. 

"  It 's  fifty,"  answered  Checkers,  lacon 
ically. 

"Well,  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  seen 
one  of  them  babies  —  but  it  looks  like  it's 
good.  Remorse,  four  hundred  to  fifty. ' 


144  CHECKERS 

"  If  I  win,  I  want  it  back,"  said  Checkers. 
"  It  was  given  to  me  by  —  it 's  my  luckj 
piece." 

"All  right,"  was  the  answer,  and 
Checkers  walked  away  with  his  dearly  pur 
chased  ticket  deep  in  his  pocket. 

Under  a  steady  but  somewhat  mysteri 
ous  play,  Remorse  was  cut  to  four  to  one, 
and  the  favorite  went  up  to  six  to  five. 
This  was  gratifying  to  Checkers,  as  in 
dicating  that  Brown  and  his  friends  were 
confident. 

He  went  up  into  the  grand  stand  ;  the 
horses  were  at  the  post.  Remorse  was  act 
ing  very  badly — plunging,  kicking  and 
refusing  to  break.  "  I  '11  just  about  get 
left  at  the  post,"  thought  Checkers.  "  Say, 
that  favorite  looks  good,"  he  remarked  io 
a  young  feltow  next  to  him. 

"Good,"  echoed  the  youth;  "well,  I 
should  say  he  is  good.  He  's  cherry-ripe, 
and  he  '11  gallop  in.  If  I  had  a  thousand 
dollars,  and  did  n't  know  where  I  was  goin' 
to  eat  to-night,  I  'd  put  it  all  on  him. 
The  -e  's  a  lot  of  '  marks '  around  toutin* 


CHECKERS  145 

Remorse  to  beat  him  —  why,  that  old  maie 
could  n't  beat  a  carpet ;  her  last  two  races 
she  could  n't  get  out  of  her  own  way." 

This  was  pleasant  for  Checkers,  but  he 
held  his  counsel.  The  next  moment  the 
starter  dropped  the  flag. 

Remorse,  with  a  running  start  from  be 
hind,  got  two  lengths  the  best  of  it ;  and, 
setting  a  hot  pace,  widened  up  the  gap  be 
tween  herself  and  the  field  in  a  way  that 
cheered  Checkers'  heart. 

It  was  a  three-quarter  dash,  and  at  the 
half  she  had  a  lead  of  at  least  ten  lengths, 
with  the  ethers  strung  out  in  a  regular  pro 
cession.  The  favorite  was  trailing  along 
in  fifth  place ;  but  Checkers  noticed  that 
he  was  "  running  easy."  The  jockey  was 
leaning  back  in  the  saddle,  and  the  horse's 
mouth  was  pulled  wide  open,  as  he  fought 
for  his  head  under  a  double  wrap. 

As  they  rounded  into  the  stretch  Re 
morse  still  led,  but  she  seemed  to  be  tiring 
rapidly.  The  favorite  swung  very  wide  at 
the  turn,  losing  several  lengths  ;  his  jockey 
then  drew  in  behind  three  others,  and 


146  CHECKERS 

allowed  himself  to  be  hopelessly  "  pock 
eted." 

Up  to  now  Checkers'  new  acquaintance 
had  been  silent;  but  at  this  exhibition  of 
incompetent  jockeyship  he  expressed  a 
desire  to  be  "good  and  damned  if  that 
ride  would  n't  frost  a  cigar-sign  Indian." 

Under  whip  and  spur  Remorse  staggered 
on  two  lengths  in  the  lead.  Within  fifty 
feet  of  the  wire  the  favorite  got  through, 
and  coming  with  a  rush,  as  it  seemed  almost 
in  spite  of  his  jockey's  efforts  to  restrain 
him,  he  nipped  Remorse  on  the  post. 

From  where  Checkers  stood  it  looked 
as  though  Remorse  was  beaten  half  a 
length.  The  crowd  yelled  with  delight ; 
No.  4  was  posted.  Checkers  looked  at  his 
programme — "  Remorse,  No.  4."  Then 
it  was  his  turn  to  yell,  and  he  rather 
abused  his  privilege.  The  tumult  of  varied 
emotion  within  him  demanded  this  vent, 
and  he  gave  it  full  play.  "  I  thought  I  was 
out  of  it,"  he  laughed  delightedly  to  the 
young  man  beside  him.  "  It  looked  like 


CHECKERS  147 

it,  did  n't  it,  at  the  angle  ?  You  see,  Re 
morse  had  the  rail." 

But  the  young  man  was  n't  interested  in 
Checkers'  good  luck.  Just  then  he  had 
"  troubles  of  his  own."  He  vouchsafed  one 
glance  of  sour  contempt  and  hurried  off  tc 
try  to  borrow  car-fare  from  some  one. 

Often  Checkers  had  won  and  lost  more 
money  than  was  involved  in  his  present 
venture  and  stood  it  stoically;  but  never 
before  had  his  need  been  so  great,  and  he 
had  reason  to  know  that  necessity  and  luck 
have  at  best  little  more  than  a  speaking 
acquaintance.  Exultantly,  therefore,  he 
skipped  down  the  stairs  into  the  betting- 
ring.  "  You  can  't  keep  a  squirrel  on  the 
ground,"  he  chuckled.  "They've  got  to 
stop  printing  money  when  I  ain't  got 
some."  The  next  minute  he  was  in  line 
behind  the  stand  where  he  had  made  his 
purchase,  tightly  grasping  the  ticket  which 
was  to  give  him  back  his  gold -piece  and 
four  hundred  dollars. 

Foui  hundred  dollars  1     It  was  a  snug 


/48  CHECKERS 

little  sum.  The  gold -piece  had  proved  a 
mascot  after  all.  Now,  he  would  "get 
out  "  his  overcoat  and  purchase  some  other 
necessary  articles.  He  decided  to  pay  off 
his  landlady  and  find  some  more  inviting 
quarters.  But  the  pleasantest  thought  of 
all  was  that  now  he  could  write  to  Pert. 
The  delight  he  found  in  this  reflection 
could  only  have  been  surpassed  by  the  joy 
of  seeing  her  in  person.  He  did  not  know 
what  he  should  say  ;  but  he  knew  that  with 
this  load  off  his  heart,  and  with  the  re 
turn  to  self-respect  which  this  success  had 
brought  him,  he  would  be  able  to  write  a 
letter  which  would  encourage  and  cheer 
her  —  it  should  be  his  first  task.  He 
longed  to  be  at  it,  and  he  began  to  chafe 
at  what  seemed  an  unusual  delay  in  an 
nouncing  "  the  official." 

Turning,  he  glanced  toward  the  judge's 
stand.  There  was  a  surging,  interested 
crowd  around  it.  A  presentiment  of  sud 
den  misfortune  came  over  him.  Almost 
at  the  same  moment  the  air  was  rent  by 
joyous  yells  from  hundreds  of  throats. 


CHECKERS  149 

The  crowd  turned  about,  and  with  one 
accord  made  a  rush  for  the  betting-ring. 

In  the  van  was  Checkers'  surly  acquaint 
ance  —  surly  no  longer,  but  radiant  with  a 
smile  which  extended  from  ear  to  ear. 
Checkers  broke  from  the  line,  and  grabbed 
him  by  the  arm.  "What  's  up  ?"  he  ex 
claimed.  "  What 's  the  yelling  about  ?  " 

"  All  bets  off,"  was  the  glad  rejoinder ; 
"*he  favorite  was  'pulled.'  The  judges 
*re  onto  a  job  in  the  race.  It  was  '  fixed ' 
for  Remorse.  We  all  get  our  money  back. 
Let  go  —  I  'm  in  a  hurry." 

Checkers  stood  as  though  paralyzed 
from  an  actual  blow.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
and  his  lips  were  colorless.  "  By  the  bald- 
headed,  knock-kneed  Jove  1"  he  exclaimed, 
suddenly  rousing  himself  with  a  vehement 
gesture  ;  "  if  my  luck  ain't — "  But  he 
felt  it  impossible  to  do  the  occasion  justice. 

With  a  set  face  and  a  heavy  heart  ht 
again  lined  up  behind  the  stand.  In  turn 
he  was  given  his  gold  piece  in  exchange 
for  his  ticket,  but  the  $400  was  gone,  to 
return  no  more  forever. 


150  CHECKERS 

Under  any  sudden  and  crucial  misfor 
tune  the  subsequent  action  of  the  average 
man  is  largely  a  matter  of  temperament. 
Numbers,  no  doubt,  in  Checkers'  position 
would  have  felt  themselves  justified  m 
drowning  their  sorrows  in  the  flowing  bowl. 
Others,  with  the  obstinacy  of  despair, 
might  have  sought,  perforce,  the  smiles 
of  frowning  fortune,  throwing  discretion 
to  the  winds,  and  risking  their  all  at  any 
desperate  game  chance  threw  in  their  way 
until  satiated.  A  few  might  have  taken 
their  hard  luck  resignedly,  only  thankful 
ttiat  it  was  no  worse,  and  hoping  for  better 
hick  next  time — such  are  they  who,  in  the 
end,  succeed.  ' 

These  alternatives  occurred  to  Checkers 
in  turn,  and  he  effected  a  sort  of  com 
promise.  He  needed  a  temporary  excite 
ment  of  some  sort  as  a  counter-irritant 
to  his  nerves.  He  was  tired  and  hungry, 
and  he  decided  that  his  first  move  would 
be  to  get  a  good  supper.  He  did  n't 
care  how  good  or  what  it  cost  —  he  was 
tired  of  practicing  economy.  But  he  must 


CHECKERS  151 

have  some  money ;  it  would  hardly  do  to 
"spring"  the  fifty  in  a  restaurant.  Ah  I 
Uncle  Isaac !  Yes,  he  believed  he  could 
pawn  the  gold  piece  as  he  would  a  watch, 
and  then  if  luck  ever  came  his  way,  he 
would  have  a  chance  of  redeeming  it.  , 
The  staid  old  waiters  in  a  fashionable 
cafe"  smiled  that  evening  as  a  youthful 
figure  entered  with  an  unaccustomed  air, 
and,  seating  himself  at  one  of  the  tables, 
studied  the  menu  earnestly.  A  few  deft 
suggestions  from  one  of  them,  however, 
put  him  in  the  way  of  a  very  good  supper ; 
and  with  a  pint  of  Mumm's  to  wash  it  down, 
and  a  cigarette  to  top  off  with,  Checkers, 
for  it  was  he,  began  to  feel  that  things 
might  have  been  a  bit  worse  after  all.  As 
he  stepped  into  the  street,  the  glaring  and 
impossible  posters  of  a  spectacular  show  at 
a  neighboring  theater  caught  his  eye  and 
decided  him.  Five  minutes  later  he  was 
comfortably  seated  in  the  front  row  of 
the  orchestra  chairs,  enjoying  himself  in 
present  forgetfulness  of  troubles  past  or 
troubles  to  come. 


152  CHECKERS 

Now,  I  fear,  that  to  properly  do  my  part» 
I  should  here  create  a  dream  for  Checkers 
to  have  had  that  night,  in  which  Pert,  Re 
morse,  a  waiter,  and  a  comedian  should  all 
take  more  or  less  senseless  parts.  But  be 
ing  somewhat  skeptical  myself,  I  was  care 
ful  to  question  Checkers  on  this  point,  espe 
cially  when  I  afterward  learned  what  great 
things  the  morrow  had  in  store  for  him. 
And,  in  spite  of  all  precedent,  he  confessed 
to  the  oblivion  of  "  the  insensate  clod," 
devoid  of  dream  or  premonition,  until  nine 
the  next  morning,  when  he  awoke  with  a 
start.  With  the  awakening  came  a  realiz 
ing  sense  of  his  situation  in  all  its  most 
disheartening  phases.  His  course  of  the 
night  before  now  seemed  to  him  the  height 
of  idiocy.  He  reproached  himself  in  no 
measured  terms  for  having  neglected  to 
write  to  Pert  as  promised  in  his  telegram. 
"  I  ought  to  have  a  guardian  appointed  to 
look  after  me,"  he  grumbled  to  himself. 
"  Think  of  my  blowing  myself  for  wine 
and  the  show,  with  starvation  staring  me 
in  the  face  ;  and  then  to  think  of  that  poe? 


CHECKERS  153 

little  girl  expecting  a  letter,  and  not  get 
ting  it." 

He  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  the 
door.  "A  letter  for  you,  Mr.  Campbell," 
said  the  servant.  Taking  it  from  her  he 
recognized  the  well-known  writing  of  his 
beloved.  He  put  the  letter  in  his  pocket, 
and,  grabbing  his  hat,  started  down  the 
stairs.  "I  'm  too  late  for  breakfast  here,"  he 
exclaimed ;  "  I  '11  go  next  door  to  the 
'beanery'  and  get  a  roll  and  a  cup  of  coffee. 
I  've  got  to  play  'em  close  to  my  vest  now," 
he  sighed.  "  A  dime  is  nothing  when 
you  've  got  it,  but  it  's  bigger  than  a 
mountain  when  you  have  n't ;  and  it  won  't 
be  long  before  I  have  n't  at  this  rate." 

Seated  on  a  little  round  stool  at  the  cor 
ner  in  the  "beanery,"  he  gave  his  order, 
\  und  then  opened  and  commenced  to  read 
«Ms  letter.  A  newspaper  clipping  dropped 
to  the  floor;  he  picked  it  up  mechanically, 
continuing  his  reading  as  he  did  so.  Sud 
denly  he  began  to  glance  from  one  to  the 
other  rapidly.  An  instant  later  he  jumped 
to  his  feet,  and  rushed  to  the  window  for  a 


I54  CHECKERS 

better  light.  It  could  n't  be  true  — it  sim 
ply  could  n't !  Yes,  yes,  it  must  be;  foi 
here  was  a  notice  from  the  public  adminis 
trator  in  Baltimore,  advertising  for  him  as 
an  heir  of  Giles  Edward  Campbell,  de 
ceased,  who  died  intestate,  etc.,  etc.,  and 
Judge  Martin,  so  Pert  said  in  the  letter, 
had  had  an  inquiry  regarding  him,  with 
the  statement  that  the  only  knowledge  the 
authorities  had  of  such  a  person  was  based 
upon  a  letter  found  among  the  effects  of 
the  deceased,  headed  "  Eastman  Hotel, 
Hot  Springs,"  beginning  "  My  dear  Uncle," 
and  signed  "  Your  affectionate  nephew, 
Edward  Campbell."  The  clerk  at  the  East 
man,  when  applied  to,  had  reported  a  mem 
orandum  left  by  Checkers,  that  any  mail 
which  might  come  for  him  be  forwarded  to 
Clarksville,  Ark.;  hence  this  letter  to  Judge 
Martin,  and  hence  Pert's  knowledge  of  the 
matter,  as  her  uncle  immediately  applied 
to  her  for  the  necessary  information. 

"  Uncle  has  written  to  Baltimore  to-day," 
continued  the  letter,  "and  he  says  you  will 
hear  from  the  authorities  there  without 


CHECKERS  155 

delay.  The  inclosed  clipping  is  from  a 
Little  Rock  paper.  Oh  1  Checkers,  dar 
ling,  is  n't  it  lovely  ?  " 

The  slovenly  waiter  shuffled  to  the  coun 
ter  with  his  cup  of  muddy  coffee  and  a 
soggy  roll.  Checkers  tossed  him  half  a 
dollar,  and  stalked  majestically  out.  "I 
think  the  joint  where  I  ate  last  night 
is  just  about  my  size  this  morning,"  he 
chuckled.  "Gee,  but  I  'd  like  to  yell  just 
once.  The  judges  can't  call  all  bets  off 
this  time."  All  during  breakfast  his  mind 
was  busy  with  a  thousand  different  specu 
lations,  and  he  finally  decided  that  in  so 
momentous  a  matter  he  ought  to  consult  a 
lawyer.  "  I  '11  find  one  in  some  big  office 
building,"  he  mentally  resolved,  "  and  get 
his  advice." 


MURRAY  JAMESON, 
Attorney-at-Law. 


This,  in  modest  gold  letters  upon  an  office 
window,  was  the  first  thing  he  saw 
reaching  the  street. 


156  CHECKERS 

"  Everything  's  coming  my  way  to-day, 
he  thought.     "  Well,  I  '11  go  in  and  see  the 
old  joker." 

He  was  much  taken  aback  upon  enter 
ing,  however,  to  find  the  "old  joker"  a 
man  of  about  thirty. 

"  Is  Mr.  Jameson  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Jameson,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  I  wanted  to  get  a  little  advice, 
but—" 

"Certainly;  come  into  my  private  office." 

Checkers  was  trapped.  "  I  do  n't  be 
lieve,"  he  began  desperately,  "  that  you  '11 
be  able  to  help  me.  It 's  a  very  important 
case,  and — well,  I  — I  want  some  one 
with  a  lot  of  experience." 

"  As  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Jameson,  who, 
by  the  way,  was  none  other  than  my  old 
friend  Murray,  "  but  I  've  been  practicing 
law  for  more  than  five  years." 

"  Well,  that 's  enough  practice  to  learn 
any  game;"  and,  seating  himself,  Checkers 
told  him  the  facts  as  succinctly  as  possible 
from  the  beginning. 

Of  his  uncle's  circumstances  he  really 


CHECKERS  157 

knew  nothing ;  but  he  remembered  hearing 
his  mother  speak  of  him,  just  before  her 
death,  as  being  "well  off,"  and  "Uncle 
Giles  was  n't  the  kind,  once  he  had  a  dol 
lar,  ever  to  let  it  get  away." 

If  Checkers'  chronology  was  correct, 
it  was  clear  that  he  was  the  only  heir,  and 
"whether  his  Uncle  left  much  or  little,  it 
was  that  much  better  than  nothing  at  all." 
But  Murray  somewhat  damped  his  en 
thusiasm  by  the  statement  that  there  might 
be  bills  and  claims  of  various  sorts  against 
the  estate,  which,  in  the  end,  would  show 
it  to  be  insolvent.  However,  he  agreed  to 
take  the  matter  up  at  once,  and  be  content 
to  receive  his  fee  when  the  final  settlement 
was  made. 

Checkers  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  in 
writing  the  long-delayed  letter  to  Pert, 
telegraphing  her  in  the  mean  time  that  he 
had  received  her  letter,  and  expressing  his 
thanks. 

A  few  days  brought  to  light  these  facts 
concerning  Giles  Edward  Campbell,  de 
ceased  :  He  had  drawn  a  large  pension 


158  CHECKERS 

undeservedly  for  years,  and  by  pinching 
and  saving  had  amassed  a  fortune.  Under 
Cleveland  in  '84  his  pension  was  annulled, 
and  about  the  same  time  he  was  nearly 
bankrupted  in  a  greedy  and  foolish  specu 
lation.  Then  fear  of  absolute  want  must 
have  seized  him,  for,  converting  the  little 
that  was  left  into  gold,  he  hoarded  it  in 
miserly  fashion ;  loaning  it  at  usurious 
rates,  and  hiding  it  when  not  in  use  in 
chests  and  crannies  in  his  den.  At  the 
time  of  his  death,  which  was  due  more  to 
lack  of  nourishment  than  to  anything  else, 
there  was  found  upon  his  person  and  in 
nooks  and  corners  of  his  room,  thirty 
thousand  dollars  in  gold  and  government 
bonds,  all  of  which  in  due  time  became 
the  property  of  Checkers. 


VIII 

On  a  certain  bright  December  day  not 
many  weeks  after  the  occurrence  of  the 
last  related  events,  the  town  of  Clarks- 
ville  seemed  to  have  assumed  a  most  un 
wonted  bustle  and  confusion.  People 
were  actually  hurrying  in  and  out  of  the 
little  white  Methodist  church,  carrying 
evergreen  boughs,  chrysanthemums  and 
sprays  of  holly  and  mistletoe.  Wagons 
were  driving  back  and  forth  between  town 
and  the  Barlow  place,  and  theBarlow  house 
was  in  the  hands  of  a  Little  Rock  caterer 
ind  his  assistants.  It  was  Checkers'  wed 
ding  day.  He  and  Pert  were  to  be  married 
that  night  at  six  o'clock.  Nothing  they 
could  think  of  had  been  left  undone  to 
make  the  occasion  a  happy  one. 

Though  the  old  man  fumed  and  fretted 


160  CHECKERS 

at  the  expense,  Checkers  insisted  upon 
having  things  "  right."  "  This  is  my  first 
and  last  wedding,"  he  said,  "  and  there  's 
going  to  be  nothing  Sioux  City  about  it." 
So,  though  the  old  man  groaned  in  spirit, 
caterer,  orchestra,  flowers,  etc.,  were  or 
dered,  regardless  of  expense,  from  Little 
Rock,  and  all  the  town  took  a  surpassing 
interest  in  the  event. 

Checkers'  return  to  Clarksville  had  been 
the  triumphant  return  of  Caesar  to  Rome. 
As  is  usual  in  such  cases,  current  report 
had  magnified  his  fortune  twenty-fold. 
Mr.  Barlow  was  now  all  smiles  and  ac 
quiescence  ;  but  his  first  meeting  with 
Checkers  was  painfully  strained.  Check 
ers  treated  him  on  the  principle  of  "  least 
said,  soonest  mended;"  but  Mrs.  Barlow 
he  kissed  and  called  "mother." 

He  had  found  Pert  looking  a  little  pale, 
and  her  bright  eyes  seemed  somewhat 
larger  and  brighter.  But  the  happiness 
which  accompanied  his  return  soon 
brought  the  color  back  to  her  cheeks. 

Of    course  Checkers  urged    an  imme- 


CHECKERS  261 

diate  marriage,  and  of  course  there  was 
the  usual  demur ;  but,  in  the  end,  a  date 
was  fixed  upon  as  near  as  would  conve 
niently  allow  for  such  preparations  as  Pert 
and  her  mother  felt  it  necessary  to  make. 
And  in  the  mean  time  Checkers  and  Pert 
were  ideally  happy.  They  took  Jong  drives 
and  walks  through  the  woods,  and  spent 
long  evenings  in  talking  over  their  plans 
for  the  future,  with  a  never-flagging  in 
terest. 

It  was  practically  decided  that  Checkers 
was  to  buy  the  Tyler  place.  This  was  a 
fruit  farm  in  perfect  condition,  with  a  neat 
little  house  upon  it,  and  not  far  from  town. 
It  could  be  purchased  for  cash  at  a  very 
low  figure,  and  as  the  trees  were  all  bear 
ing,  it  seemed  to  promise  a  large  and  sure 
return  for  the  money,  even  cutting  in  half, 
for  possibilities  of  frost  or  drought,  a  con 
servative  estimate  of  what  the  trees  should 
yield  to  the  acre. 

Mr.  Barlow  and  Checkers  figured  upon 
it  carefully  from  every  standpoint,  and  the 
more  they  figured,  the  more  it  seemed  a 


162  CHECKERS 

providential  opportunity.  Checkers  knew 
nothing  of  any  other  business,  and  his 
money  was  practically  lying  idle  in  the 
bank.  No  other  safe  investment  could 
promise  so  large  an  income  and  at  the 
same  time  furnish  him  with  employment 
and  a  pleasant  home. 

And  so  at  last  the  matter  was  decided. 
The  earnest  money  was  paid,  and  the  order 
given  for  the  execution  of  the  necessary 
papers.  The  house  was  vacated  and 
thoroughly  renovated,  and  Pert  found  a 
new  delight  in  selecting  paper,  carpets  and 
furniture  to  her  liking —  Checkers  had 
given  her  carte  blanche. 

As  soon  as  the  title  to  the  property  was 
found  to  be  clear,  Checkers  gave  a  certified 
check  to  Mr.  Tyler  for  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  and  a  warranty  deed  was  signed, 
conveying  the  property,  in  fee,  to  Persis 
Barlow.  This  was  in  accordance  with 
Checkers'  desire,  and  was  a  great  surprise 
to  Pert  and  her  parents.  "  What 's  mine  ;s 
yours,  dear,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "and 
what's  yours  is  your  own."  And  that 


CHECKERS  163 

ended  the  matter — unfortunately  foi 
Checkers. 

There  was  just  one  question  upon  which 
the  two  had  a  serious  difference  —  the  case 
of  Arthur  Kendall. 

"  Now,  Edward,"  said  Pert  one  evening 
(when  she  called  him  *  Edward '  he  knew 
that  something  important  was  coming),  "  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  about  something  that 
has  been  worrying  me  dreadfully." 

"  What  is  it,  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  And  I  want  you  to  promise  to  do  as  I 
ask  you." 

Checkers  felt  suspicious,  and  refused 
to  "go  it  blind." 

"  Well,  it 's  about  the  Kendalls.  I  want 
you  to  make  up  with  Arthur,  somehow  — " 

"Not  on  your  —  " 

"  Yes,  Edward  ;  you  must.  Remember 
the  Thanksgiving  sermon  about  forgive 
ness  and  loving  your  neighbors." 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  well  enough  to  love  your 
neighbor,  but  there 's  no  necessity  for  tak 
ing  down  the  fence.  Arthur  treated  me 
like  a  step-child,  and — " 


164  CHECKERS 

"  But,  Checkers  dear,  we  want  Aunt  Deb. 
and  Mr.  Kendall  at  the  wedding.  They 
won't  come  unless  Arthur  does,  and  Arthur 
won't  come  unless  you  make  up  with  him. 
Consider,  Checkers,  you  'vs  been  unusually 
blest,  and  you  ought  to  be  humble  and 
thankful,  and  do  something  to  show  it ;  and 
here 's  your  opportunity.  Another  thing  " 
• —  this  came  hesitatingly  —  "  he 's  the  only 
feLow  about  here  who  could  make  a  decent 
appearance  as  your  best  man." 

Checkers  went  off  into  peals  of  laughter. 
*  Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  begin  to  tumble. 
Forgive  your  neighbor,  if  you  happen  to 
need  him  —  afterwards  you  can  shake  him 
igain." 

Pert  joined  in  the  laugh.  "  It  is  no  such 
thing,"  she  responded.  "  If  you  half  ap 
preciated  me,  you  would  n't  blame  Arthur 
for  being  angry  at  you  for  doing  what  you 
did  to  him.  He  loved  me  a  great  deal 
more  than  you  do ;  he  never  refused  me  a 
favor  in  his  life." 

"That's  just  why  he  lost  you.  Push 
Miller  used  to  say  —  " 


CHECKERS  165 

"  Never  mind  Push  Miller ;  Arthur  is  to 
be  at  Sadie's  to-morrow  evening.  You 
and  I  are  going  there  to  call.  You  are  to 
shake  hands  with  Arthur  and  tell  him 
you  're  glad  to  see  him,  and  be  natural  and 
friendly.  Afterwards  you  can  ask  him  to 
stand  up  with  you." 

"  It  seems  to  be  settled,"  said  Checkers; 
and  so  it  eventuated.  Checkers  greeted 
Arthur  with  frank  cordiality,  and  relieved 
the  tension  by  a  few  well-turned  witticisms. 
No  apologies  passed  between  them,  and 
reference  to  the  past  was  tacitly  barred. 
Checkers'  sunny  nature  was  not  one  to 
harbor  a  grudge,  and  if  Arthur  still  felt  re 
bellious,  he  managed  to  hide  it  gracefully. 
He  readily  consented  to  act  the  part  of 
best  man  for  Checkers ;  and  Sadie,  of  course, 
was  to  be  Pert's  maid  of  honor.  Most  of 
the  evening  was  spent  in  discussing  other 
available  material  in  the  way  of  brides 
maids  and  groomsmen,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  with  a  few  importations  from  Little 
Rock,  they  would  be  able  to  present  an  at 
tractive  wedding  party. 


166  CHECKERS 

"  Now,  I  have  an  idea,"  said  Arthur, 
"  which  I  think  is  a  good  one.  Checkers 
ought  to  know  those  fellows  before  they 
are  asked  to  be  his  groomsmen  ;  we  '11  go 
up  to  Little  Rock  to-morrow,  and  I  '11  in 
vite  them  to  meet  him  at  an  informal  din 
ner  at  one  of  the  hotels." 

"A  very  good  scheme,"  assented  Pert. 

"And  I  '11  invite  the  party  here  to  sup 
per  for  the  night  before  the  wedding,"  put 
in  Sadie. 

"  It 's  very  kind  of  you  both,"  said 
Checkers,  "and  I  appreciate  it  more  than 
I  can  tell  you." 

Early  the  next  morning  the  two  boys 
went  to  Little  Rock.  Arthur  invited  four 
of  the  most  desirable  of  his  acquaintances 
to  dinner  that  evening,  and  luckily  they  all 
accepted. 

Most  of  Checkers'  day  was  taken  up  in 
fulfilling  missions  for  Pert  and  her  mother. 
He  returned  to  the  hotel  late  in  the  after 
noon,  and  had  barely  time  to  don  his  new 
dress-suit  and  join  Arthur  in  the  rotunda 
before  their  guests  arrived. 


CHECKERS  167 

They  were  jolly  good  fellows,  all  of  them. 
Checkers  was  duly  presented,  and  after  a 
preliminary  cocktail  the  party  adjourned 
to  the  private  dining-room,  where  a  round 
table  was  prettily  laid  for  six,  Checkers 
felt  apprehensive  for  Arthur,  when  he 
noticed  three  different  glasses  at  each 
plate;  but  Arthur  took  early  occasion  to 
state  that  he  was  "on  the  water-wagon," 
and  he  hoped  that  the  boys  would  "not 
let  it  make  any  difference  with  them,  or 
with  the  gayety  of  the  evening"  —  and  fl 
did  n't.  After  the  first  edge  of  their  hun 
ger  was  turned  the  jollity  grew  apace. 
Checkers  in  his  happiest  vein  related  num 
berless  humorous  anecdotes,  among  them 
his  experience  of  Remorse  and  the  gold 
piece.  Each  of  them  told  his  particular 
pet  joke,  and  all  were  boisterously  ap 
plauded. 

"Now,  waiter,"  exclaimed  Arthur,  sud 
denly  righting  his  down-turned  champagne 
glass,  "  fill  them  up  again  all  around,  and 
give  me  some.  Gentlemen,  I  want  to  pro 
pose  a  double  toast,  and  I  '11  ask  you  to 


168  CHECKERS 

drink  it  standing  —  a  bumper."  All  arose 
expectantly.  "Let  us  drink,"  he  said,  "to 
the  health  and  happiness  of  the  sweetest, 
fairest,  most  lovable  girl  God  ever  put 
upon  this  earth  —  it  is  needless  to  name 
her.  Let  us  also  drink  to  the  health  and 
prosperity  of  the  thrice-fortunate  man  who 
has  won  her  love — Mr.  Campbell,  your 
health."  He  touched  his  wine  to  his  lips  ; 
the  others  drained  their  glasses,  and  all 
sat  down. 

There  was  an  expectant  silence.  Check 
ers  felt  the  blood  go  surging  to  Us  brain, 
while  his  heart  seemed  to  sink  like  lead 
tvithin  him.  He  felt  powerless  to  rise, 
although  he  knew  that  all  were  await 
ing  his  response.  The  silence  became 
painful.  "Speech,"  murmured  some  one. 
"  Speech,"  echoed  the  others.  With  a  su 
perhuman  effort  he  managed  to  arise,  and 
grasping  a  full  glass  of  water,  drained  it. 
'•'I  '11  tell  you,  boys,"  he  said  huskily, 
"  here's  where  I  'd  put  up  the  talk  of  my 
life,  if  I  could  ;  but  it 's  like  it  was  that 
day  they  declared  all  bets  off  —  the  occa- 


CHECKERS  169 

sion  's  too  much  for  me.  I  feel  it  all — 1 
feel  it  in  my  heart,"  he  continued  ear 
nestly.  "I'm  obliged  to  Arthur  for  his 
motion,  and  to  you  all  for  making  it 
unanimous.  I  know  that  I  'm  lucky,  so 
lucky  that  I  can  hardly  believe  my  good 
fortune  myself.  Half  the  time  I  think  that 
I  must  be  asleep,  and  trying  to  'cash  a 
hop-dream.'  I  've  been  ready  to  get  mar 
ried  for  a  couple  of  years  —  I  've  had  every 
thing  but  the  stuff  and  the  girl ;  I  was 
ready  to  furnish  the  groom  all  right ;  but 
I  've  always  had  a  feeling  that  I  could  n't 
have  much  respect  for  a  girl  that  would 
marry  me  if  she  was  'onto'  me  —  every 
fellow  feels  the  same,  or  ought  to.  And 
so  when  I  find  I  have  drawn  a  prize  girl, 
who,  as  Arthur  says,  is  'the  fairest  and 
sweetest  God  ever  put  on  this  earth,' 
and  it 's  true,  it  jars  me,  boys  ;  it  does,  on 
the  dead.  I  feel  like  the  only  winner  in  a 
poker-game,  as  though  I  ought  to  apolo 
gize  for  it  —  and  I  do,  with  about  the  same 
regret. 

"  Well,  I  've   had   my   hard   luck,   and 


170  CHECKERS 

'played  out  the  string,'  and  now  tha\ 
things  seem  to  be  coming  my  way,  I  'm 
going  to  enjoy  myself  while  it  lasts.  *  Life 
is  short,  and  we  're  a  long  time  dead.' 
That 's  an  old  saying,  but  it 's  a  good  one. 
Boys,  I  hope  you  '11  all  be  as  happy  as  I 
am  when  it  comes  your  turn,  and  may  it 
come  soon.  Here  's  how."  He  lifted  his 
glass,  which  in  the  mean  time  the  waiter 
had  filled,  and,  smiling  around  the  circle, 
tossed  off  his  wine  in  unison  with  the  others 
and  sat  down. 

There  was  the  usual  clapping  and  cheer 
ing,  after  which  Checkers  asked  their  at 
tention  for  a  moment  more.  "  I  want  to 
sign  two  of  you  fellows  for  groomsmen," 
he  said.  "  I  wish  I  needed  four,  I  'd  like 
to  have  you  all ;  but  Pert  said  *  two,'  and 
what  Pert  says  goes.  Now,  how  shall  we 
decide  it?" 

''Why  not  match  for  it !"  suggested  one 
of  them. 

"  Good  idea ! "  exclaimed  Checkers ; 
"you  four  match  nickels,  odd  man  out. 
until  two  are  left  —  come  on,  get  busy." 


CHECKERS  171 

On  the  first  trial,  two  called  "  heads," 
and  two  "tails."  "No  business,"  said 
Checkers.  On  the  second  trial,  three  called 
"heads"  and  one  "tails."  "Tough  luck, 
old  man,"  said  Checkers  to  the  one ;  "  I 
wanted  you  particularly."  At  the  first  essay 
of  the  three  remaining,  all  showed  "heads" 
up ;  at  the  second  two  of  them  "  switched" 
to  "tails,"  while  the  third  kept  "heads" — 
thus  deciding  the  matter. 

"  Well,  that  settles  that,"  said  Checkers ; 
"but  groomsmen  or  not,  we  '11  all  be  there, 
and  I  hope  we'll  all  have  a  good  time." 

It  was  in  "  the  wee,  sma'  hours "  when 
the  party  broke  up,  and  Checkers  and  Ar 
thur,  after  seeing  their  guests  safely  out, 
sought  their  rooms,  and  quickly  tumbled 
into  bed.  Checkers,  however,  took  occa 
sion  to  thank  Arthur  warmly  for  his  kind 
ness,  and  to  express  a  hope  that  an  oppor 
tunity  might  soon  occur  for  him  to  requite 
it.  The  next  afternoon  saw  them  back  in 
Clarksville. 

The  few  intermediate  days  passed 
quickly.  Sadie's  supper  was  a  success, 


172  CHECKERS 

as  such  things  go  ;  the  ceremony  was  re- 
hearsed,  and  all  was  in  readiness  for  the 
great  event. 

The  wedding  morning  dawned,  as  bright 
and  beautiful  a  winter's  day  as  nature  ever 
vouchsafed  a  happy  bridal  pair.  Check 
ers  was  up  with  the  lark.  He  felt  the 
weight  of  the  nations  upon  his  shoulders. 
All  day  he  was  back  and  forth  between 
house  and  church,  anxious  that  nothing 
should  be  overlooked  ;  suggesting  and 
helping  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when 
Arthur  laid  violent  hands  upon  him,  and 
insisted  upon  his  taking  a  rest  before  mak 
ing  a  toilet  for  the  evening. 

Promptly  at  six,  to  the  Lohengrin 
March  on  a  cabinet  organ,  the  bridal  party 
came  slowly  down  the  aisle,  the  two  ushers 
first,  and  following  them,  the  two  brides 
maids.  After  these  came  Sadie,  alone, 
tvith  a  huge  bouquet  of  roses,  and  lastly 
leaning  upon  her  father's  arm,  came  Pert, 
in  a  simple  white  gown,  her  veil  wreathed 
with  orange  blossoms  and  pinned  with  .§ 
diamond  star,  one  of  Checkers'  gifts. 


CHECKERS  173 

Every  neck  was  craned,  and  every  eye 
fastened  upon  her  in  breathless  admira 
tion,  for  she  was  beautiful. 

From  behind  a  screen  at  the  side 
Checkers  and  Arthur  came  forth,  and  met 
them  at  the  altar.  The  service  was  simple, 
but  solemn  and  impressive.  The  earnest 
ness  of  Checkers'  answers  caused  a  quiet 
smile  to  pass  around,  which  culminated 
in  down-right  laughter  at  the  ardor  with 
which  he  kissed  the  bride  when  the  time 
came ;  but  he  was  wholly  oblivious. 
Marching  out  to  the  accustomed  music,  he 
could  scarcely  maintain  a  decorous  step,  so 
great  was  his  elation. 

Their  short  drive  to  the  house,  during 
which  he  folded  Pert  in  his  arms,  and 
knew  that  she  was  his — all  his — he  felt  to 
be  the  moment  of  his  supremest  earthly 
happiness. 

The  others  followed  quickly.  The  guests 
arrived,  and  soon  there  were  congratula 
tions,  feasting,  music  and  merry-making 
galore. 

But  all  things — good  things — have  an 


I74  CHECKERS 

end,  and  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  that  they 
have ;  at  least,  in  this  case  Checkers  and 
Pert,  as  they  crossed  the  threshold  of  their 
own  little  home,  breathed  a  happy  sigh  at 
the  thought  that  they  were  alone  at  last  — 
together. 


IX 


The  succeeding  days  brought  one  con 
tinuous  round  of  simple  pleasures.    Chiist 
mas  and  the  holidays  followed  hard  upon 
the  wedding,  and  New  Year's  Day  being 
Sunday,  Pert  invited  the  members  of  the 
wedding  party  to  the  house  for  from  Fri 
day  to  the  Monday  following. 

At  this  season  of  the  year  there  was 
nothing  of  actual  work  to  be  done  upon 
the  place,  and  Checkers  was  free  to  hunt 
with  the  men  or  drive  with  the  girls,  as  he 
elected. 

Whether  it  be  for  the  reason  that 
"  misery  loves  company,"  or  for  the  much 
more  probable  and  kindly  reason  that 
"our  truest  happiness  lies  in  making 
others  happy,"  it  is  certain  that  most 
young  married  couples  have  a  very  strong 
"weakness"  for  match-making.  And  Pert 
I7S 


176  CHECKERS 

and  Checkers  were  no  exception  to  this 
rule. 

They  decided  that  Arthur's  truest  good 
demanded  that  he  marry  Sadie ;  and  poo*- 
little  Sadie  showed  but  too  plainly  in  what 
direction  her  happiness  lay. 

But  in  spite  of  Pert's  well-laid  plans  to 
leave  them  in  quiet  corners  together,  in 
spite  of  her  many  little  tactful  suggestions, 
Arthur  remained  unresponsive.  He  was 
attentive  in  a  perfunctory  way,  but  that 
was  all.  And  often  Pert  would  blush  to 
find  him  gazing  at  her  with  a  wistful,  far 
away  look  in  his  eyes,  which  told  more 
surely  than  words  what  was  in  his  heart. 
In  fact,  Sadie  timidly  suggested  to  Pert 
one  day  that  Arthur  was  always  distrait 
and  silent  after  seeing  her  and  Checkers 
together ;  and  that  instead  of  making  him 
desire  a  domestic  little  home  of  his  own, 
It  seemed  to  embitter  and  sour  him. 

So,  after  the  house  party  Checkers  settled 
down  to  serious  life  on  a  farm,  and  Pert 
busied  herself  with  housekeeping,  learning 
to  cook  from  her  neat  old  colored  servant 


CHECKERS  177 

"Handy,"  trying  new  dishes  herself,  and 
doing  the  thousand  and  one  little  things 
that  go  to  make  up  "a  woman's  work," 
which  't  is  said  "  is  never  done  "  —  "  done," 
of  course,  in  the  sense  of  "  finished." 

And  so  the  winter  glided  quickly  into 
spring — the  spring  of  '93;  a  year  that 
many  of  us  will  long  remember. 

One  evening  Checkers  unfolded  to  Pert 
a  long-cherished  scheme,  which  delighted 
her.  This  was  nothing  less  than  a  plan  to 
take  her  to  Chicago  in  May  to  see  the 
World's  Fair.  "  We  '11  call  it  our  wedding 
trip,  little  girl,"  he  said  caressingly,  "and 
we  won't  be  gone  but  ten  days  or  two 
weeks." 

But  when  Mr.  Barlow  heard  of  it,  "  he 
made  a  monkey  of  himself,"  as  Checkers 
put  it.  He  ranted  and  swore,  and  told 
them  both  they  would  end  in  the  poor- 
house  with  their  reckless  extravagance.  • 
But  Checkers  laughed  him  off  good-na 
turedly.  He  knew  that  the  trip  would  be 
expensive ;  but  he  felt  that  he  could  afford 
*t,  and  he  had  another  and  a  deeper  rea 


178  CHECKERS 

son  for  taking  Pert  to  Chicago.  He  was 
greatly  worried  about  her  health,  and  he 
desired  to  have  her  consult  some  eminent 
physician  regarding  herself. 

One  day,  when  they  were  out  for  a  walk, 
she  had  run  a  playful  race  with  him  along 
a  level  stretch  of  road,  bending  every  en 
ergy  to  beat  him.  He  was  running  easily 
behind  her,  puffing  and  grunting  to  make 
her  think  that  she  was  really  worsting  him, 
when  suddenly  she  stumbled,  tottered,  and, 
putting  her  hand  to  her  heart,  sank  limply 
upon  a  bed  of  leaves  at  the  side  of  the 
road.  In  an  instant  Checkers  was  kneel 
ing  beside  her.  She  had  not  fainted,  but 
was  as  pale  as  death,  and  she  still  held  her 
hand  to  her  heart  and  gasped  for  breath. 
Checkers  loosened  her  gown  about  her 
throat,  then  filling  his  hat  with  water  at  a 
little  stream  near  by,  he  bathed  her  brow 
and  wet  her  lips.  Fully  an  hour  passed 
before  she  was  able  with  his  assistance  to 
walk  to  the  house,  and  though  about,  next 
day  apparently  as  well  as  ever,  she  com 
plained  thereafter,  at  intervals,  of  dizziness, 


CHECKERS  179 

chilly  sensations  and  strange  flutterings  at 
her  heart. 

The  local  doctor  joked  her  about  the 
size  of  her  waist,  and  told  her  that  her 
trouble  was  probably  due  to  a  combination 
of  lacing  and  indigestion.  But  to  Check 
ers  he  confided  a  fear  that  there  might  be 
some  affection  of  the  heart,  and  earnestly 
advised  that  he  consult  some  worthy  spe 
cialist. 

So,  while  Checkers  told  nothing  of  his 
apprehensions  to  Pert,  he  would  brook  no 
interference  in  his  plans.  The  middle  of 
May  they  left  the  house  in  care  of "  Mandy," 
and  set  out  for  the  land  of  "The  Great 
White  City." 

What  delight  they  found  in  roaming 
about  through  those  wonderful  buildings 
and  marvelous  displays  !  Checkers,  alert 
and  all-observing,  Pert,  enthusiastic  and 
wondering  —  they  spent  whole  days  in  a 
single  building  or  upon  the  ever-interest 
ing  Midway. 

Checkers  had  found  cozy  quarters  in  a 
small  hotel  not  far  from  the  grounds,  but 


i8o  CHECKERS 

they  lunched  and  dined  where  it  suited 
them  best.  Thus  it  chanced  that  one 
night,  when  they  were  going  to  the  theater, 
they  dined  beforehand  at  Kinsley's,  as 
related  by  Checkers  in  the  opening  chap 
ters. 

Meanwhile,  Checkers  did  not  neglect 
the  more  serious  part  of  his  mission.  He 
hunted  up  Murray,  who  was  surprised  and 
glad  to  see  him,  and  who  evinced  a  gen 
uine  interest  in  the  story  of  his  marital 
felicity. 

Upon  the  matter  of  a  doctor  for  Pert, 
Murray  happened  to  know  "just  the  man," 
a  friend  of  his,  to  whom  he  gave  Check 
ers  a  letter  of  introduction.  Checkers 
called  and  explained  the  case  to  the  doc 
tor,  and  the  next  day  Pert  underwent  a 
thorough  examination.  Checkers  awaited 
the  verdict  anxiously.  In  effect  it  was 
this :  her  heart  action  was  weak,  and  at 
times  irregular,  but  there  was  no  reason 
to  apprehend  but  what,  with  a  careful  diet, 
regular  exercise,  plenty  of  sleep  and  fresh 
air,  she  would  live  as  long  as  the  average 


CHECKERS  181 

woman,  and  fully  recover  from  the  trouble 
some  symptoms  which  sudden  over- 
exertion  had  brought  upon  her.  Violent 
exercise  and  excitement,  however,  were 
especially  to  be  avoided  ;  and  the  use  of 
all  stimulants,  narcotics  and  anaesthetics 
must  be  set  down  as  dangerous  in  the  ex 
treme. 

Checkers  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  He 
had  warned  the  doctor  to  make  as  light 
of  the  case  to  Pert  as  his  conscience  would 
permit,  explaining  that  he  himself  would 
tell  her  gradually,  as  fitting  occasion  of 
fered,  what  had  been  said  to  him,  and 
would  see  that  all  instructions  were  care 
fully  carried  out.  Violent  exercise  she 
was  already  warned  against,  and  Checkers 
felt  that  he  could  guard  her  against  un 
usual  excitement.  He  carefully  avoided 
the  harrowing  plays  at  the  theater,  but 
took  her  to  operas  and  burlesques.  But  it 
never  occurred  to  him  as  necessary  to  warn 
her  specifically  against  stimulants  and 
drugs. 

A  few  days  before  their  departure  for 


i?2  CHECKERS 

home,  they  received  a  pleasant  surprise  in 
the  shape  of  a  telegram  from  Arthur  and 
Sadie,  announcing  their  marriage. 

A  letter  from  Sadie  arrived  the  next 
day,  in  which  she  said  that  she  and  Arthul 
had  hoped  to  join  them  in  Chicago  and 
surprise  them,  but  that  conditions  were 
such  at  the  store  that  Arthur's  every  avail 
able  moment  was  demanded,  and  he  could 
not  possibly  get  away.  But  this  was  not 
the  half  of  it.  The  panic  of  '93,  of  which 
premonitory  notice  had  been  given  by 
numerous  bank  J-ailures,  was  now  a  stern 
reality.  Collections  were  bad,  business 
was  dead,  and  the  firm  of  Kendall  &  Co., 
which  had  unfortunately  laid  in  a  larger 
stock  of  goods  than  usual  that  season, 
found  it  all  they  could  do  to  keep  them 
selves  from  going  to  the  wall. 

Checkers  and  Pert  returned  and  soon 
fell  into  their  accustomed  grooves.  They 
called  upon  Arthur  and  Sadie,  and  found 
them  reasonably  happy  under  new  con 
ditions,  although  Arthur  was  evidently 
tarrying  a  load  of  care  and  responsibility; 


CHECKERS  183 

while  Judge  Martin  sat  up  and  cheerfully 
predicted  "con fusion  and  every  evil  work" 
as  a  result  of  the  demonetization  of  silver 
and  other  kindred  political  "  outrages." 

One  morning  as  Checkers  was  working 
about  the  dooryard,  he  espied  his  father- 
in-law  coming  up  the  road  at  a  gait  which 
presaged  important  news.  The  old  man 
reached  him,  out  of  breath.  Checkers 
waited  expectantly. 

"  Well,  what  do  ye  think  has  happened 
now?"  panted  Mr.  Barlow.  "The  First 
National  Bank  of  Little  Rock  has  gone 
up  —  busted  ;  got  yer  money." 

There  was  in  his  voice  and  manner 
something  of  the  triumph  that  mean  spirits 
feel  at  being  the  first  to  bring  disastrous 
news,  as  well  as  a  show  of  personal  injury 
at  the  thought  of  Checkers  allowing  him 
self  to  lose  what  he  himself  had  even  the 
shadow  of  an  interest  in. 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  Checkers  invol 
untarily,  growing  pale  at  the  news.  Then 
for  a  moment  he  stood  in  silence,  nervously 
biting  his  upper  lip.  He  had  had  long 


184  CHECKERS 

experience  in  controlling  himself  undei 
trying  circumstances.  "  If  that 's  so,"  he 
finally  answered  in  a  quiet  voice,  "  it  's 
tough." 

This  exasperated  Mr.  Barlow.  "  Tough," 
he  repeated  ;  "  you  nincompoop,  it 's  actual 
ruin  ;  the  bank  has  been  robbed  by  its 
president  —  looted  —  ye  '11  never  see  a  cent 
of  it  ag'in,"  and  he  started  toward  the  house. 

"  Hold  on  ! "  exclaimed  Checkers,  grab 
bing  him  by  the  arm.  "Not  a  word  of 
this  to  Pert ;  it  will  only  excite  her,  and 
not  do  any  good." 

But  the  old  man  shook  him  off  and  con 
tinued  his  way.  Checkers  picked  up  a 
handy  piece  of  scantling,  and  running  up 
the  steps,  turned  and  faced  his  father-in- 
law. 

"  Now,  see  here,  old  man,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  I  've  taken  as  much  of  your  slack  as  I  'm 
going  to  —  see  ?  I  tell  you  you  can't 
come  into  this  house  ;  and  I  give  you  fair 
warning,  if  you  put  your  foot  on  one  of 
those  steps  I  '11  smash  you  over  the  head ;" 
and  he  swung  his  weapon  threateningly  to 


CHECKERS  185 

fcis  shoulder.  "  What  I  've  made  or  lost  is 
mine,  not  yours,"  he  continued,  "and  it 
don't  '  cut  any  pie '  with  you  —  you  '11 
never  get  a  cent  of  it.  My  wife  is  mine, 
not  yours,  and  I  '11  take  care  of  her,  what 
ever  happens.  But  she  is  n't  well,  and 
the  doctor  said  any  sudden  excitement 
might  kill  her.  I  '11  tell  her  gradually  and 
quietly,  and  go  down  to  Little  Rock  this 
noon  and  see  if  there  's  anything  can  be 
done.  If  I  'd  let  you  tell  her  you  'd  break 
the  news  with  an  ax,  and  I  tell  you  I  ain't 
going  to  have  it ;  so  just  'jar  loose,' and 
'  pull  your  freight.' " 

There  was  something  in  Checkers'  de 
termined  look  which  cowed  the  old  man, 
but  he  would  n't  go  without  a  last  word. 
"  Well,  ye  '11  both  o'  ye  end  a  couple  of 
paupers  and  die  in  the  poorhouse  if  this 
keeps  up,"  he  said,  "  with  your  fancy  fur 
niture  and  trips  to  Chicago.  How  much 
did  you  have  in  that  bank  ?  " 

Just  here  Pert  appeared  in  the  doorway. 
Checkers'  threatening  attitude  and  her 
father's  question,  which  she  overheard,  sur- 


186  CHECKERS 

prised  and  startled  her.  "What  is  it?" 
she  cried,  putting  her  arm  around  Check 
ers  and  disarming  him  gently. 

"Nothing  much,"  he  began. 

"Nothing  much,"  interrupted  her  father 
"  except  that  the  Little  Rock  bank  is  busted, 
and  all  yer  money 's  gone." 

Checkers  reached  for  his  stick,  but  Pert 
restrained  him.  "Never  mind,  dearest," 
she  said,  "it  may  not  be  as  bad  as  you 
think  —  things  never  are  ;  and  we  've  got 
the  house  and  the  farm,  and  the  bonds ; 
and,  whatever  happens,  we  've  got  each 
other."  . 

"  Yes  ;  you  've  got  each  other,"  said  the 
old  man  cynically,  "  and  that 's  all  ye  will 
have,  if  things  goes  this  way.  If  yer  goin1 
to  Little  Rock,  boy,"  he  said  sharply,  con 
sulting  his  old  silver  watch,  "  ye  must 
hurry ;  ye  ain't  more  'n  time  to  make  it 
now." 

Checkers  saw  that  this  was  so,  and  going 
to  his  room,  made  a  hasty  toilet.  "  Good 
bye,  Pert,  darling,"  he  said,  as  he  emerged, 
catching  her  up  and  embracing  her  lo\r- 


CHECKERS  18'; 

Jngly.  "  I  '11  be  back  soon  ;  don't  mind 
what  he  says  ;"  and  with  a  warning  glance 
at  Mr.  Barlow,  he  hurried  off  down  the 
road  toward  the  station. 

As  he  stood  upon  the  platform  awaiting 
the  train  he  felt  a  sudden  presentiment  of 
evil,  and  with  a  superstition  born  of  his 
early  experience  in  gambling,  he  half  de 
cided  to  turn  back.  "  I  've  got  a  feeling  I 
ought  n't  to  go,"  he  muttered ;  "but  I  guess 
it 's  because  I  'm  afraid  the  old  man  will 
worry  Pert.  Still,  she  seemed  to  take  it 
calm  enough,  and  I  ought  to  get  there  and 
look  after  my  stuff."  He  boarded  the 
train  and  went  steaming  off,  but  he  could 
not  get  rid  of  his  bugaboo. 

The  situation  with  Checkers  at  this  time 
was  about  as  follows :  Of  the  legacy  left 
him,  $20,000  had  gone  for  the  farm,  or 
fruit  ranch,  which  he  had  given  Pert.  A 
thousand  more  had  been  spent  in  refitting 
and  furnishing  the  house.  Most  of  the 
wedding  expenses,  which  Checkers  had  as 
sumed,  Pert's  presents,  an  elaborate  ward 
robe  for  himself,  the  household  expenses 


i88  CHECKERS 

and  the  trip  to  Chicago,  had  consumed 
about  another  thousand.  The  balance,  ex 
cept  ten  government  bonds  and  a  few  hun 
dred  dollars  in  the  bank  at  Clarksville,  was 
on  deposit  at  interest  in  this  bank  which 
failed  —  $4,800,  for  which  he  held  a  certifi 
cate  of  deposit.  It  was  very  unfortunate, 
and  the  sense  of  his  loss  kept  growing 
upon  him  as  time  went  on. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Barlow  had  taken  occa 
sion  to  lecture  Pert  on  her  sinful  ex 
travagance.  With  pencil  and  paper  he 
sat  before  her,  and  showed  her  how  within 
six  short  months  she  and  Checkers  had 
spent  one-tenth  of  their  fortune,  and  how 
with  this  loss  at  the  bank  they  were  poorer 
by  a  third  of  all  they  had  ever  possessed. 

"  Figures  won't  lie,  but  liars  will  figure." 
He  knew,  but  he  did  not  tell  her,  that  of 
what  was  actual  expense  there  would  be 
iittle  cause  for  its  repetition,  and  that 
most  of  the  money  expended  was  visible 
in  assets  of  one  sort  or  another.  He  only 
Bade  her  fee1  perfectly  miserable,  and 


CHECKERS  189 

wrought  her  up  beyond  the  point  of  think 
ing  or  answering  intelligently. 

When  he  had  gone  she  tried  for  a  while 
to  busy  herself  about  the  house,  but  she 
felt  a  growing  lonesomeness  —  a  desire  for 
sympathy  and  companionship — and  she 
decided  to  put  on  her  hat  and  go  down  to 
her  cousin  Sadie's. 

It  was  now  high  noon,  and  a  stifling 
hot  day  ;  but  she  braved  the  heat  of  the 
blistering  sun,  and  trudged  along  the  dusty 
way  to  her  destination.  When  she  reached 
the  Martins'  house  she  was  dizzy  and  faint 
from  the  heat  and  the  blinding  glare. 

Judge  Martin  and  Arthur  came  home  to 
dinner,  and  both  expressed  the  greatest 
sympathy  for  her  and  Checkers  in  their 
sudden  misfortune.  At  the  table  Pert 
tried  to  eat  for  appearance's  sake,  but  her 
efforts  ended  in  mere  pretense.  Sadie 
noticed  it,  and  insisted  that  after  dinner 
she  go  to  a  room  on  the  cool  side  of  the 
house  and  "  take  a  nap."  To  this  Pert 
pbjected.  "  I  can  never  sleep  during  the 


190  CHECKERS 

day,"  she  said ;  "  the  longer  I  lie,  the 
wider  awake  I  get.  I  am  really  all  right," 
she  added,  smiling  bravely,  "only  my  head 
aches  —  a  very  little." 

"  We'll  soon  fix  that,"  exclaimed  Arthur. 
"  I  've  been  troubled  with  headache  and 
sleeplessness  lately,  myself,  and  I  Ve  struck 
a  remedy  that  beats  anything  you  ever 
saw  ;  knocks  a  headache,  and  makes  you 
sleep  like  an  infant.  It's  perfectly  harm 
less,  too — guaranteed.  Excuse  me  a 
minute  ;  I'll  get  the  box." 

Pert  felt  too  miserably  weak  and  apa 
thetic  to  further  object  to  Sadie's  sugges 
tion  or  Arthur's  remedy;  so,  under  her 
cousin's  ministering  guidance,  she  retired 
to  an  upper  room  and  prepared  herself 
with  what  comfort  she  could  to  rest,  while 
Sadie  opened  the  windows  and  drew  the 
shades. 

"  Now,  Pert,"  said  Sadie,  "  take  one  of 
these  powders  with  a  little  water,  and  I 
think  you  '11  feel  better  right  away.  I  '11 
leave  the  box  here  on  the  table,  near  the 
bed,  and  it  the  first  one,  does  n  't  cure 


CHECKERS  191 

your  headache  and  put  you  to  sleep,  take 
another.  Now  is  there  anything  more 
^ou  want,  dear?  If  there  is,  just  call ; 
I  '11  leave  the  door  the  least  bit  open."  A 
sudden  impulse  prompted  her,  as  she  was 
going  out,  to  return  and  kiss  Pert  fondly, 
and  though  not  an  uncommon  thing  be 
tween  them,  still  both  wondered  for  a 
moment  afterward  at  the  unusual  tender 
ness  and  feeling  that  each  had  uncon 
sciously  put  into  the  embrace. 

Left  alone,  Pert  tried  to  compose  her 
mind  and  go  to  sleep  ;  but  in  spite  of 
herself  her  brain  dwelt  anxiously  upon 
Checkers  in  Little  Rock,  and  upon  what 
her  father  had  said  to  her.  Half  an  hour 
passed  and  still  her  fancy  teemed,  as  she 
restlessly  tossed  from  side  to  side.  She 
felt  herself  growing  nervous,  and  her  ear 
upon  the  pillow  told  her  that  her  heart 
was  beating  rapidly. 

"At  least  my  head  feels  a  great  deal 
better,"  she  murmured,  raising  herself 
upon  her  elbow  ;  "  now  if  I  could  only 
get  to  sleep  I  believe  I  should  wake  up 


192  CHECKERS 

quite  myself  again.  Perhaps  anothei 
powder  will  do  it  ;  I  'm  afraid  of  them, 
though.  Still,  Arthur  says  they  're  per 
fectly  harmless  —  I  '11  take  just  one  more. 
Checkers  would  n  't  like  it ;  he  told  me 
never  to  take  any  medicine."  She  lifted 
her  box  from  the  table.  "  Dear  old  Check 
ers,"  she  said  to  herself,  with  a  sigh,  pre 
paring  the  powder  ;  "  how  he  loves  me ! 
His  first  thought  was  to  keep  the  news 
from  me  for  fear  I  would  worry."  She 
took  the  draught  and  sank  back  upon  the 
pillow  —  "to  be  loved  as  he  loves  me  — 
Oh,  Checkers!  mother!!" 

The  afternoon  wore  on  towards  dusk. 
Sadie  went  about  her  household  duties, 
humming  softly.  Once  she  thought  she 
heard  Pert  call,  but  as  the  sound  was  not 
repeated,  she  fancied  herself  mistaken,  and 
sat  down  to  read,  happy  in  the  thought 
that  Pert  must  have  fallen  asleep.  It 
seemed  to  be  blowing  up  cooler;  the  wind 
had  shifted,  and  a  few  dark  clouds  were 
rolling  up  from  the  west,  with  distan* 
rumbling. 


CHECKERS  193 

About  five  o'clock  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
Sow  drove  up  in  a  buggy.  Mrs.  Barlow 
got  out,  and  Mr.  Barlow  drove  on  to 
ward  the  store.  Sadie  saw  them  and 
opened  the  door. 

"Is  Pert  here,  Sadie?"  was  the  ques 
tion  which  greeted  her.  "We  've  been 
up  to  her  house,  and  'Mandy'  said  she 
had  come  down  here." 

"Yes;  she  's  here,  Auntie  Barlow." 

"The  poor  little  thing!  My  husband 
only  told  me  the  news  this  afternoon; 
he  's  been  down  street  all  morning,  and 
I  wanted  to  see  her  and  comfort  her." 

"She  wasn't  feeling  well,"  explained 
Sadie,  "and  after  dinner  I  sent  her  up 
stairs  to  sleep.  You  '11  find  her  in  the 
bedroom  over  the  parlor.  She  must  be 
awake  by  this  time." 

"Very  well;  I  '11  go  up."  Mrs.  Barlow 
ascended  the  stairs. 

Sadie  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  upon  the  gathering  storm,  now  vivid 
ly  foretold  by  constant  flashes  of  jagged 
lightning.  Suddenly  she  started,  and 


194  CHECKERS 

stood  transfixed,  as  though  turned  to  ice 
with  a  chilling  horror.  There  had  come 
to  her  ears  from  above  an  awful  cry  of 
bitter  anguish,  quickly  followed  by  a  jar 
ring,  muffled  sound,  as  of  a  falling  body. 

"Auntie  Barlow!"  she  gasped,  regain- 
ing  her  faculties  with  a  superhuman  ef 
fort,  and  rushing  blindly  toward  the 
stairs.  Staggering  up  with  the  aid  of  the 
banister,  she  reached  the  landing  and 
entered  the  room  beybnd.  There,  pros 
trate  upon  the  floor,  lay  Mrs.  Barlow  in 
a  deathlike  swoon.  Upon  the  bed  lay 
the  lifeless  body  of  poor  little  Pert — her 
pure,  white  soul  had  flown. 

There  are  some  who  faint  at  the 
thought  of  a  thing,  but  are  brave  when 
they  meet  it  face  to  face.  Such  a  one 
was  Sadie.  She  realized  the  situation  at 
a  glance;  and  though  the  awfulness  of  it 
benumbed  her,  she  did,  dry-eyed  and  me 
chanically,  what  she  knew  must  be  done. 
Mrs.  Barlow  she  could  not  lift,  but,  she 
sprinkled  her  face  with  water,  and  put  a 
pillow  under  her  head.  Then  with  the 
ghost  of  a  hope  that  Pert  was  but  in  a 


CHECKERS  195 

stupor,  she  rushed  down  the  stairs,  and 
out  into  the  street,  toward  the  doctor's, 
a  few  doors  away.  She  met  him  just 
coming  out  of  his  gate.  "Come,  quick," 
she  said;  and  as  they  hurried  back  she 
told  him  in  a  few  word',  what  had  hap 
pened. 

Mrs.  Barlow  still  lay  in  a  state  of  semi- 
consciousness,  moaning  pitifully  at  inter 
vals.  With  all  her  soul  in  her  eyes, 
Sadie  watched  the  doctor  while  he  felt 
Pert's  wrist  and  held  a  glass  before  her 
lips  for  an  indication  of  breathing.  But 
his  face  gave  never  a  sign  of  hope,  and 
his  eyes,  as  he  looked  up,  told  her  all. 
"She  is  dead,"  he  said  softly.  Sadie 
burst  into  a  fit  of  uncontrollable  weep 
ing.  The  doctor  lifted  Mrs.  Barlow 
carefully  and  deposited  her  upon  a  bed 
in  another  room. 

The  sound  of  voices  was  heard  outside  7 
—those  of  Arthur  and  Judge  Martin 
talking  [to  Mr.  Barlow,  who  had  just 
driven  up  and  met  them  as  they  were 
coming  in.  Sadie  went  slowly  down  the 
stairs  and  opened  the  door.  The  sight 


196  CHECKERS 

of  her  tear-stained  face  startled  them  all 
"What  is  it?"  they  exclaimed  simultane 
ously. 

"Oh,  Pert—"  she  began;  but  burst 
again  into  weeping  and  was  unable  to 
continue. 

The  doctor  appeared  just  behind  her, 
and  told  the  three  men  what  had  hap 
pened.  Mr.  Barlow,  his  face  set  hard> 
and  a  ghastly  white  under  his  yellow 
skin,  tottered  up  the  stairs,  the  doctor 
following.  Judge  Martin  penned  a  tele 
gram  to  Checkers,  and  dispatched  Ar 
thur  with  it  at  once. 

"Pert  is  very  sick.  Come  home,"  it 
read,  and  it  was  signed  as  though  from 
Mr.  Barlow. 

Fortunately,  Checkers,  in  Little  Rock, 
had  but  a  few  moments  to  wait  for  the 
outgoing  train  after  receiving  the  mes 
sage  ;  but  every  moment  of  the  journey 
was  torture;  every  delay  at  way-stations, 
agony.  When,  after  what  seemed  to  him 
like  years,  they  at  last  pulled  into  Clarks- 
ville,  he  jumped  from  the  moving  train 
to  the  platform. 


CHECKERS  197 

Judge  Martin  had  set  for  himself  the 
unwelcome  task  of  meeting  him  and 
breaking  the  sad  news.  But  his  resolu 
tion  all  but  failed  him  when  Checkers, 
grasping  both  his  hands,  asked  breath 
lessly,  "How  is  she,  sir?"  his  face  up* 
turned  with  a  pleading  look,  as  though 
upon  the  answer  depended  his  very  life 
and  salvation. 

"She  is  very  low,  my  poor  boy,"  an 
swered  the  Judge,  the  tears  coming  into 
his  eyes;  "but  you  must  be  brave — " 

"My  God,  my  God!"  breathed  Check 
ers,  raising  his  hand  to  his  eyes  in  a 
dazed  way,  as  though  to  ward  off  the 
blow  of  the  Judge's  words,  the  import 
of  which  was  all  too  plain.  The  Judge 
laid  his  hand  upon  Checkers'  shoulder 
and  drew  him  toward  him,  protectingly. 
"Come,"  he  said,  gently;  "she  is  at  my 
house." 

Checkers  started  as  though  from  a 
dream.  "At  your  house,"  he  echoed, 
"and  I  have  been  standing  here  wasting 
precious  time." 

With  a  sudden  bound  he  jumped  to  the 


198  CHECKERS 

ground  and  flew  up  the  street  through 
the  darkness,  toward  the  Judge's  house, 
not  many  yards  away.  Arthur  heard  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps,  and  silently 
opened  the  door.  "Upstairs,  Checkers," 
he  whispered.  Checkers  hurried  fran 
tically  up  the  stairs,  but  paused  at  the 
threshold,  ere  he  entered  the  room. 
There  before  him,  by  the  light  of  one 
dim,  flickering  candle,  sat  Sadie,  silently 
weeping.  There  upon  the  bed,  cold  and 
silent  in  death,  lay  the  mortal  remains 
of  his  sweet  girl-wife. 

With  an  agonized  cry  he  fell  to  his 
knees  at  the  bedside,  and  taking  her 
cold  little  hand,  he  rubbed  it  and  kissed 
it  caressingly.  "Pert,  my  darling,"  he 
moaned,  "come  back  to  me!  Don't 
leave  me,  Pert,  my  precious  one — tell 
me  you  won't  dear — tell  me  you  hear 
me! — "  But  only  the  sound  of  Sadie's 
convulsive  sobbing  answered  him  as  she 
stumbled  from  the  room. 

The  long  threatened  storm  now  sud 
denly  broke  in  all  its  fury.  The  rain 
blew  fiercely  in  at  a  window  near  him, 


CHECKERS  199 

and  drenched  him  through  and  through 
with  the  flying  spray;  but  he  heeded  it 
not.  Kneeling  at  the  bedside,  his  face 
above  the  little  hand  clasped  in  both  of 
his,  he  uttered  mingled  incoherent  pray 
ers  to  Pert  to  come  back,  and  to  God  to 
take  him  too. 

Judge  Martin  noiselessly  entered  the 
room  and  closed  the  window.  Gently  he 
put  a  hand  under  each  of  Checkers'  arms, 
and  raised  him  up.  "Come,  my  boy," 
he  said  kindly,  but  firmly,  "you  must 
not  stay  here  in  this  condition.  Try  to 
bear  up.  It 's  an  awful  blow  that  has 
come  upon  us;  but  God,  in  his  inscrut 
able  wisdom,  has  thought  it  best  to  take 
her—" 

Again,  with  a  sudden  burst  of  anguish, 
as  though  his  very  heart  had  broken 
within  him,  Checkers  threw  himself  to 
his  knees  by  the  bedside,  and  burying 
his  face  between  his  outstretched  arms, 
poured  out  in  bitter,  choking  sobs,  his 
utter  hopeless,  despairing  misery.  So 
terrible  a  strain,  however,  brought  about, 
in  the  end,  its  own  results.  Beneficent; 


200  CHECKERS 

nature  intervened,  and  toward  the  morn- 
ing  hours  Judge  Martin  and  Arthur 
gently  lifted  the  grief-stricken  boy  from 
the  kneeling  position  in  which  he  had 
fallen  asleep,  and  put  him  comfortably 
upon  a  bed  in  another  room,  without  his 
awakening. 

Details  of  this  sort  are  harrowing  at 
best,  but  nothing  imaginable  could  have 
been  sadder  than  was  the  funeral  two 
days  later.  The  rain,  which  had  never 
intermitted,  fell  with  dismal  hopeless 
ness.  Mrs.  Barlow  had  not  been  able  to 
leave  her  bed  since  the  shock,  and, 
never  strong,  her  life  was  now  almost 
despaired  of. 

Checkers  stood  uncovered  in  the  down- 
pouring  rain,  beside  the  open  grave, 
his  clear-cut  face  as  hard  and  white  as 
marble.  In  spite  of  the  draggling  wet 
and  clinging  mud,  the  country  people 
were  out  in  force ;  but  their  gapes,  their 
nudges  and  whispers,  were  as  little  to 
him  as  the  falling  rain.  He  was  dead 
to  everything  but  the  sense  of  hfs  utter, 
hopeless  desolation. 


CHECKERS  201 

What  made  it  all  even  sadder,  if  pos 
sible,  was  that  a  dreadful  breach  had 
come  between  him  and  Sadie  and  Arthur. 

On  the  morning  following  that  first 
awful  night,  he  had  suddenly  confronted 
them  with  the  box  of  powders  crushed  in 
his  hand,  and  in  his  eyes  a  tragic,  ques 
tioning  look  which  spoke,  while  he  stood 
sternly  silent. 

"Oh,  Checkers,"  cried  Sadie,  falling 
to  her  knees  and  holding  out  her  hands 
entreatingly,  "forgive  us — we  did  n't 
know — we  didn't  know!  Forgive  us; 
please  forgive  us!" 

But  his  face  only  grew  the  harder. 
"Forgive  you,"  he  said,  as  he  raised  his 
clenched  hand  to  heaven,  invokingly; 
"may  God  eternally — "  but  he  faltered, 
and  his  voice  grew  suddenly  soft,  "for 
give  you,"  he  added,  dropping  his  arm 
and  lowering  his  voice  contritely.  "But 
I,"  he  began  again,  in  measured  pas 
sionless  words — "I  can  never  forgive 
you.  I  never  want  to  see  you— either 
of  you — again."  And  from  that  hour  he 
never  spoke  to  them,  nor  looked  at 


202  CHECKERS 

them,  any  more  than  as  though  they 
were  cot. 

The  funeral  was  over.  He  had  come 
home.  The  rain  had  ceased.  He  sat 
alone  on  his  doorstep.  The  minister 
and  some  well-meaning  but  mistaken 
friends,  who  had  tried  to  comfort  him, 
were  gone.  Over  the  western  hills  the 
lowering  sun  broke  through  the  heavy, 
moving  clouds,  painting  some  a  lurid 
tinge,  and  lining  the  heavier  ones  with 
silver.  Checkers  noted  it  absently. 
"Another  lie  nailed,"  he  muttered,  as 
the  trite  old  proverb  occurred  to  him. 
"My  cloud  is  blacker  and  heavier  than 
any  of  those — and  silver  lining? 
Humph!  Well,  silver 's  demonetized!" 
Over  his  face  there  flitted  the  ghost  of 
a  smile.  A  smile,  not  at  the  sorry  jest^ 
but  at  the  thought  that  at  this  hour 
there  should  have  come  to  him  so  whim 
sical  a  fancy. 

A  number  of  days  went  by.  He  sim 
ply  drifted,  doing  a  few  needful  duties 
mechanically;  sometimes  eating  the  food 
which  Mandy  prepared  for  him,  but  of- 


CHECKERS  203 

tener  going  without  altogether;  sitting, 
brooding,  hours  at  a  time,  gazing  va 
cantly  into  space. 

Mrs.  Barlow — he  learned  one  day 
from  the  doctor,  who  stopped  a  moment 
in  passing — had  taken  a  slight  turn  for 
the  better.  Mr.  Barlow,  the  following 
morning  appeared,  as  Checkers  stood 
meditatively  surveying  a  fine  old  apple 
tree,  from  which  a  large  limb,  hanging 
heavy  with  fruit,  had  been  blown  during 
the  night. 

"Thar,"  snorted  the  old  man  as  he 
came  up;  "thar  ye  go,  with  yer  dog- 
durned  laziness.  If  you  'd  o'  propped 
that  limb  weeks  ago,  as  you  'd  ought  t* 
done,  you  'd  o'  saved  me  a  couple  o* 
barrels  o'  apples — Shannons,  too.  It 's 
high  time  I  was  takin*  a  holt  here  my 
self.  Git  the  saw  and  the  grafting-wax." 
Checkers  obeyed,  and  stood  apathetically 
watching  Mr.  Barlow  minister  to  the 
tree's  necessity. 

"Now,"  said  the  old  man,  when  at 
last  he  had  finished,  "come  and  set  in 
the  shade;  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with 


204  CHECKERS 

ye;"  and  he  led  the  way  around  to  the 
doorstep.  Both  sat  down.  The  old  man 
drew  a  plug  of  "Horseshoe"  from  his 
pocket,  and  cut  off  a  liberal  piece,  which 
he  chewed  into  a  comfortable  consistency 
before  beginning. 

"Now,  boy,"  he  said,  "luck  's  ben 
a-comin*  mighty  hard  for  you  and  me 
these  last  few  weeks,  and  I  ain  't  a-sayir/ 
it 's  over  yit  for  both  o'  us."  Checkers 
made  no  response. 

The  old  man  chewed  ruminatSngly,  and 
spat  at  a  "devil's-horse"  which  sat 
alertly  atop  of  a  shrub  near  by.  "Y* 
see,"  he  continued,  "times  is  gittin* 
wuss  and  wuss;  banks  failin'  every whar, 
and  nawthin'  wuth  a  cent  on  th'  shillin', 
'cept  Gov'ment  bonds.  Corn  aint  wuth 
nawthin;  farmers  is  feedin'  their  wheat 
to  th'  hogs,  and  cotton  ye  could  n't  give 
away."  Again  there  was  a  silence,  and 
again  the  "devil's-horse"  narrowly  es 
caped  a  deluge. 

"By  the  way,  whar  *ve  ye  got  them 
Gov'ment  bonds  o'  yourn?"  Checkers 
came  out  of  his  reverie  at  the  question. 


CHECKERS  205 

"Mr.  Bradley  's  got  them  put  away  in 
the  safe  for  me  at  the  store,"  he  an 
swered. 

"Mm-hmm!"  mused  the  old  man;*'I 
was  kinder  wonderin'  whether  ye  ever 
give  any  on  'ern  away,  like  ye  done  th* 
place  here;"  and  he  glanced  at  Checkers 
cunningly  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"I  never  gave  them  away,"  said 
Checkers,  drearily,  "because  there  was 
no  occasion  for  it.  What  we  had  we 
owned  together  and  shared  in  common, 
and  it  makes  little  difference  whether  it 
was  in  my  name  or — or  any  one  else's." 

"Yes;  but  it  does.  It  makes  a  differ 
ence  in  the  eye  o'  the  law." 

"Well,  the  law  can  leave  it  in  its  eye, 
or  get  it  out,  if  it  worries  it  any." 

The  old  man  grinned  sardonically  on 
the  side  of  his  face  away  from  Checkers. 
He  had  never  liked  our  little  friend  from 
the  time  when  Checkers  had  c^csed  him 
to  fall  over  a  rocking-chair  ir*  the  parlor 
the  night  that  he  and  Pert  Became  en 
gaged;  and  Checkers  had  festered  this 
dislike  by  snubbing  and  belittling  him 


206  CHECKERS 

whenever  an  opportunity  occurred.  His 
entire  make-up  of  sneaking,  petty  selfish 
ness  and  greed  was  abhorrent  to  one  of 
Checkers'  open,  generous  nature,  and  it 
was  only  for  Pert's  sake  that  he  had  ever 
consented  to  have  the  old  man  about  or 
notice  him  at  all. 

"Wai,"  said  Mr.  Barlow,  musingly, 
"that 's  one  thing  I  kin  see  stickin'  out; 
you  ain't  no  kind  o'  hand  to  run  a  place 
like  this — ye  're  too  tarnal  shif'less. 
Somebody  's  got  to  look  after  things. 
Now,  my  place  down  below  's  all  right 
for  raisin'  cotton  and  sich,  but  it 's  on- 
healthy,  mighty.  The  doctor  says  it 's 
livin'  down  thar  gives  my  wife  chills  and 
ager.  So,  take  it  all  'round,  and  bein' 
's  ye  're  fixed  so  nice  up  here,  but  lone- 
some-like  by  yerself,  I  guess  me  an' 
wife*ll  close  up  the  ole  house  an'  move 
up  here  to  live." 

"Guess  again." 

"No;  I  'low  I  guessed  it  right  fust 
time,"  grinned  the  old  man.  "What's 
the  good  in  runnin'  two  houses  when  we 
kin  all  live  together  in  one  jist  ez  well? 


CHECKERS  107 

Wife  kin  have  the  parlor  bedroom  all  t' 
herself,  and  you  kin  have  the  front  or 
back  room  upstairs,  either  you  like — I 
ain't  pertic'lar  on  that  pint — " 

"Now,  see  here,"  interrupted  Check 
ers,  jumping  up  with  an  impatient  ges 
ture,  "I  've  listened  to  enough  of  this 
bloody  nonsense.  I  '11  live  here  by  my 
self  and  run  this  place  to  suit  myself. 
Now,  when  you  go  out,  close  the  gate — 
I  'm  tired  of  talking,  and  I  want  to  be 
left  alone." 

But  the  old  man  never  budged ;  and 
again  the  "devil's-horse"  braved  an  un 
righteous  fate  with  a  stoicism  worthy  of 
a  better  cause. 

"Young  feller,"  said  Mr.  Barlow, 
after  several  moments'  cogitation,  "you 
ain't  never  treated  me  with  the  perlite- 
ness  and  respect  as  is  due  from  a  boy 
yer  age  t'  his  elders  and  betters.  But  I 
never  harbored  no  grudge,  'cause  I 
knowed  it  was  only  a  matter  o'  time 
when  chickens  like  them  'ud  come  home 
to  roost." 

Checkers  had  intended  to  move  off  and 


208  CHECKERS 

leave  him  sitting  there  alone;  but  he 
stopped  long  enough  to  light  a  cigarette 
(a  thing  which  the  old  man  abominated) 
and  listen  to  this  last  remark. 

lNow  it's  roostin"  time"  continued 
Mr.  Barlow  with  emphasis,  "and  onless 
ye  come  down  off' n  th'  high  horse  ye  're 
ridin',  ye  're  goin'  ter  hear  suthin'  drap 
that  '11  kinder  put  a  crimp  in  that  pride 
o*  yourn. " 

This  was  a  new  tone  for  him  to  take, 
and  Checkers  turned  and  looked  at  him 
surprisedly. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  went  on,  "you  ain't 
got  no  head  for  bizness,  and  it 's  provi 
dential  things  hez  come  round  so  's  I 
kin  run  this  place  and  make  what  they  is 
to  be  made  out'n  it."  He  looked  up  as 
though  he  expected  to  be  interrogated. 

"What 's  your  lay?"  asked  Checkers. 

"Wai,  the  situation,  ez  near  ez  I  kin 
figger  it  out,  accordin'  to  law,  is  this:  1 
owns  this  ranch. ' ' 

Checkers  stood  silent  for  a  moment, 
and  then  laughed.  "You  owns  it?"  he 
mimicked;  "nit" 


CHECKERS  209 

"This  real  estate,"  began  Mr.  Barlow 
dryly,  as  though  repeating  a  well-conned 
lesson,  "with  the  house  upon  it,  was 
owned  in  fee  by  Persis  Barlow  Campbell 
at.  the  time  o'  her  death.  Said  Persis 
Campbell  died  intestate  and  without  is 
sue,  and  accordin'  to  th'  laws  o'  the 
State  of  Arkansas  all  real  and  personal 
property  standin'  in  her  name,  or  be- 
longin'  to  her  at  th'  time  o'  her  death, 
reverts  to  her  next  o'  kin,  who  's  her 
father.  Now,  what  d  'ye  say?" 

"It's  a  lie,"  exclaimed  Checkers, 
trembling  with  anger  at  the  thought  of 
so  outrageous  a  thing. 

"It 's  th'  gospel  truth,"  said  Mr.  Bar 
low,  trying  in  vain  to  hide  the  look  of 
satisfaction  which  sat  upon  his  face. 
His  words  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  car 
ried  conviction.  This  was  the  final 
blow;  the  crowning  evil.  Checkers  stag 
gered  under  it.  The  house  and  the  trees 
floated  before  his  eyes  like  a  stifling 
vapor,  but  with  a  mighty  effort  he  gath 
ered  himself  together. 

"If  this  is  so,"  he  began,  his  voice 


*,o  CHECKERS 

hoarse  with  passion,  "it 's  the  most  un« 
godly  outrage  that  ever — I  'ra  going 
down  to  ask  Judge  Martin  if  that 's  the 
law.  But  let  me  tell  you,"  he  added, 
"law  or  no  law,  you  shall  never  live  in 
this  house  while  I  'm  alive  and  able  to 
shoot  a  gun.  Do  you  understand?" 

The  old  man  was  silent. 

"Do  you  understand?"  repeated 
Checkers,  more  vehemently. 

"Pp-tttt,"  said  the  old  man,  and  this 
time  the  "devil's-horse"  fell  a  victim  to 
its  too  great  temerity. 


X 

Sadly  enough,  it  was  all  too  true. 
Judge  Martin,  while  forced  to  admit  the 
fact,  cursed  Mr.  Barlow  in  no  measured 
terms.  "The  damned  old  pachyderm!" 
he  exclaimed;  "suppose  it  is  the  letter 
of  the  law,  by  every  sense  of  equity, 
justice,  and  decency,  the  place  belongs  to 
you,  and  if  he  tries  to  take  it,  damme,  I  '11 
head  a  movement  to  tar  and  feather  him. " 

Checkers  went  back  in  utter  dejection. 

Mandy  had  a  tempting  dinner  ready, 
but  he  barely  touched  it.  All  the  after 
noon  he  sat  under  the  shade  of  the  trees, 
thinking  deeply.  Mr.  Earlow  he  knew 
too  well  to  believe  that  he  could  be  dis 
suaded  from  any  purpose  once  formed, 
if  he  had  the  law  on  his  side,  and  there 
was  any  question  of  money  in  it.  He 
was  already  miserable ;  but  to  be  forced 
to  live  with  the  old  man,  even  with  thf 

311 


212  CHECKERS 

mitigating  circumstances  of  his  wife — to 
have  him  around  all  the  time — would  be 
wholly  unbearable. 

Then,  too,  stronger  than  this  was  the 
feeling  that  such  an  invasion  of  the 
house  would  be  a  profanation.  Every 
ornament,  every  chair,  was  standing  just 
as  Pert  had  left  it.  No  vandal  hand 
should  move  or  break  them,  devoting 
them  to  secular  use — not  if  he  had 
power  to  help  it;  and  he  believed  he  had. 

He  jumped  up  and  hurried  into  the 
house.  For  two  hours  he  worked  in  eager 
haste,  opening  and  closing  drawers,  and 
sorting  articles  into  different  piles  on 
the  floor. 

As  night  approached  he  entered  the 
Kendall  store,  and  related  the  whole 
affair  in  a  quiet  tone  to  Mr.  Bradley. 
That  good  old  soul  could  hardly  contain 
himself  for  righteous  indignation;  but 
Checkers  cut  him  short  by  telling  him  he 
was  in  a  hurry. 

"There  's  two  things  I  want  to  ask  of 
you,  Mr.  Bradley,"  said  Checkers.  *'I 
want  that  package  of  bonds  you  have  for 


CHECKERS  213 

me  in  the  safe,  and  I  want  you  to  cash  a 
check  for  two  hundred  dollars — it 's  just 
the  balance  I  have  in  the  bank  here. 
I  'm  going  away  to-night — for  a  while, 
at  least." 

Mr.  Bradley  gave  him  the  package, 
and  luckily  had  enough  money  on  hand 
to  cash  his  check.  "Thank  you,"  said 
Checkers,  "for  this  and  for  all  your  other 
kindness  to  me.  Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,  my  son,  and  God  bless 
you!"  and  Mr.  Bradley  wrung  Checkers' 
hand,  while  the  tears  welled  up  in  his 
kind  old  eyes  and  trickled  down  his 
wrinkled  cheeks. 

Outside,  Checkers  met  Tobe,  lumber 
ing  along  with  a  pair  of  mules  and  a 
lumber  wagon. 

"Tobe,  you  're  the  very  man  I  want!" 
he  exclaimed;  "come,  turn  round,  and 
drive  up  to  my  place."  Tobe  proceeded 
to  obey  without  demur  or  questioning. 

Since  last  we  saw  him,  Tobe  had  tried 
his  luck  with  a  fifth  "woman,"  and  lived 
in  a  two-room  shanty  on  a  clearing  in  the 
mountains. 


214  CHECKERS 

Checkers  walked  ahead  until  they 
reached  the  house.  *' Drive  up  as  near 
to  the  door  as  you  can,  Tobe,"  he  said. 
"I  '11  be  out  in  a  minute." 

Mandy  was  preparing  his  supper  in  the 
kitchen.  "Mandy,"  said  Checkers, 
*'I  *m  afraid  I  've  got  bad  news  for  you. 
I  *m  going  away  to-night,  and  I  may  not 
come  back  again ;  so,  Mandy,  I  'm 
afraid  I  won't  need  you  any  more.'  * 

Mandy's  honest  black  face  took  on  a 
comically  serious  look.  Her  lip  hung 
pendulously,  as  she  slowly  shook  her 
gaudily  turbaned  head.  "You  aint  goin* 
sho'  'nough,  is  you,  Marse  Checkahs?"  she 
asked,  for  lack  of  something  better  to  say. 

*'Yes,  Mandy  I  'm  going  to-night," 
he  said,  "and  before  I  go  I  want  to  lock 
up  this  house.  So  after  you  *ve  washed 
the  dishes  and  put  things  to  rights, 
you  'd  better  arrange  to  go  home.  And, 
Mandy,  there  's  a  number  of  things  here 
I  '11  never  need,  that  would  make  your 
cabin  very*  comfortable.  Tobe  is  here 
with  his  wagon,  and  I  '11  get  hin?  to  give 
you  a  lift  with  them  to-night." 


CHECKERS  215 

"Thank  you,  Marse  Checkahs,  thank 
you,  sah,"  was  all  the  poor  old  soul 
could  say. 

Two  hours  later  Tobe  drove  out  of  the 
gate  with  a  wagonful  of  furniture,  car 
pets,  bedding,  and  kitchen  utensils,  en 
route  for  Mandy's  cabin.  Mandy  sat  be 
side  him,  rocking  back  and  forth,  and 
crooning  to  herself  in  a  curious  mixture 
of  boundless  grief  and  delirious  joy. 

Tobe  returned  and  piled  another 
wagon-load  even  higher.  This  was  des 
tined  for  the  cabin  in  the  mountains. 
Tobe's  delight  was  indescribable,  and 
his  efforts  to  express  his  thanks  were 
quite  as  futile  as  had  been  those  of  Man 
dy.  Checkers  [had  allowed  the  two  to 
take  every  useful  article  they  chose  from 
all  save  the  parlor  and  Pert's  room. 
Those  rooms  remained  inviolate. 

*4I  will  write  to  Judge  Martin  to-night, 
Tobe,"  said  Checkers,  "telling  him  what 
I  have  done  for  you  and  Mandy,  in  case 
any  one  should  question  how  you  came 
by  all  this  plunder.  This  furniture  be 
longs  to  me,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 


2i6  CHECKERS 

"whatever  the   law  may    do    with  the 
house  and  ground,   for  I  bought  it  an(f 
paid  for  it  myse.lf,  and  never  gave  it  t 
anybody." 

"Now,  Tobe,  one  thing  more,  here  's 
my  trunk ;  put  it  on  your  wagon  and  drop 
it  off  at  the  station  on  your  way  through 
town.  That 'sit.  Good-bye,  old  fellow; 
my  regards  to  the  madam — I  hope  she  '11 
be  pleased  with  my  wedding-gift." 

Tobe  buried  Checker's  hand  in  his 
great  horny  palm.  "Mr.  Checkers,"  he 
said,  and  his  voice  grew  husky,  "ye  're 
God's  own  kind;  may  He  have  ye  in  His 
keepin'  !"  and  he  climbed  upon  his 
wagon,  and  drove  slowly  out  into  the 
night. 

Checkers  wa!>  alone.  He  went  slowly 
into  the  house.  A  clock  upon  the  man 
tel  was  chiming  ten.  There  was  still 
two  hours  before  train  time.  He  sat 
down  and  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Judge 
Martin,  sealed  and  stamped  it,  and  put 
it  in  his  pocket.  His  hat  and  light  over 
coat  lay  upon  a  chair  beside  him.  He 
arose  and  put  them  on.  His  satchel, 


CHECKERS  211 

caae,  and  umbrella  he  then  carefully  laid 
on  the  stoop  outside,  and  stood  a  while 
listening  in  the  darkness.  Apparently 
satisfied,  he  returned,  and,  taking  one 
last,  lingering  look  around,  put  out  the 
lights. 

For  perhaps  ten  minutes  he  was  busy  at 
something  under  the  stairway.  He  then 
silently  emerged  and  locked  the  door 

The  people  of  Clarksville  and  that 
vicinity  are  given  to  retiring  early.  Had 
they  been  abroad,  or  even  awake,  as  late 
as  eleven  o'clock  that  night,  they  might 
have  seen  a  startling  spectacle  in  the 
distance — that  of  a  mass  of  ruthless, 
hungry  flames  devouring  a  little  white 
dwelling;  leaping  up  in  their  fierce 
ecstacy  to  the  heavens,  and  painting  the 
sky  all  about  a  lurid,  smoky  crimson. 

Checkers  sat  perched  upon  the  fence 
jome  distance  off.  One  heel  was  caught 
upon  the  first  rail  below  him.  His  elbow 
rested  upon  his  knee,  and  his  upturned 
palm  supported  his  chin. 

The  poor  little  house  writhed  helpless 
in  the  withering  grasp  of  the  remorseless 


218  CHECKERS 

flames.  **This,  then,  was  the  final  end. 
ing,"  he  thought — "ashes  to  ashes," 
literally.  This  was  the  awakening  from 
his  short  dream  of  bliss.  Here  he  had 
lived  six  happy  months;  then  ill-fortune 
singled  him  out  for  a  plaything.  He 
laughed  a  bitter,  mirthless  laugh. 

The  night  was  perfectly  still  and  the 
myriad  sparks  from  the  flames  rose 
straight  to  heaven.  "There  's  one  good 
thing  about  it  all,"  he  mused,  "and  that 
is  that  I  kept  neglecting  to  insure  the 
house  and  furniture  when  I  went  "to  Lit 
tle  Rock.  That  being  the  case,  it 's  a 
wonder  I  did  n't  burn  out  before  this.  I 
guess  it  was  coming.  I  probably  got  a 
lead  of  a  couple  of  days  on  my  luck,  and 
beat  it  out  a  length  or  two." 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  He  had  still 
half  an  hour  before  train  time.  The  fire 
was  burning  lower.  Suddenly  the  whole 
standing  structure  fell  in  with  a  muffled 
crash.  Again  the  flames  rose  high  and 
fierce;  but  they  rapidly  died  down,  and 
soon  there  remained  of  the  fair  white  cot- 
but  a  blackened,  smouldering  ruin. 


CHECKERS  219 

Checkers  climbed  down  and  went  over 
near  by.  Nothing  of  value  was  left.  The 
very  foundations  were  cracked  and  fallen 
in;  but  the  sounds  of  voices  on  the  road 
now  warned  him  that  he  must  be  going. 

He  turned  for  an  instant  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  Barlow  house,  and  bowed  low. 
"Now,  you  thieving  old  highbinder," 
he  said,  "take  the  change;"  and,  diving 
into  a  grove  of  trees  he  took  a  rounda 
bout  way  through  the  fields  to  avoid  the 
gathering  crows  which,  finally  aroused, 
now  flocked  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster. 

Breathless,  he  arrived  on  the  nick  of 
time.  His  trunk  was  thrown  aboard  the 
train;  he  entered  the  sleeper  and  was 
whisked  away  toward  Little  Rock. 

He  went  out  again  and  stood  upon  the 
platform  until  the  last  vestige  of  Clarks- 
ville  was  passed.  He  then  found  a  seat 
in  the  smoking-room  and  smoked  until 
almost  morning. 

***** 

'Chicago!"  Checkers  stood  once 
more  upon  his  native  heath.  He  had 
come  directly  from  Little  Rock,  had 


220  CHECKERS 

rented  a  modest  room,  and  had  taken  up 
again  the  thread  of  a  drifting,  devil 
may-care  existence.  Gradually,  the  con-* 
stant,  active,  throbbing  pain  of  his  be« 
reavement  wore  away,  and  in  its  stead 
there  came  a  sullen,  morbid  sense  of  the 
uselessness  of  all  things.  He  had 
neither  friends  nor  acquaintances;  even 
Murray  Jameson  was  out  of  town.  He 
haunted  the  Fair  grounds  in  the  daytime 
and  the  theatres  at  night. 

"Excitement  and  Forgetfulness**  — • 
this  might  have  been  his  watchword. 

I  feel  that  if  I  could  have  met  him  at 
this  time  instead  of  almost  i  year  latef 
as  I  did,  I  might  have  brought  an  active 
pressure  to  bear  upon  him,  and  saved  to 
him  the  good  that  the  refining  influence 
of  his  wife  and  his  ClarksviUe  connec 
tions  had  done  him.  But,  alas!  in  this 
busy  world  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
standing  still.  We  either  advance  or 
retrograde.  The  hill  is  steep  £o  cMrob, 
but  going  down  is  easy. 

Checkers  went  down ;  gradually,  it  is 
true,  but  still  he  went  down. 


CHECKERS 

By  degrees  he  met  his  fellow-roomers 
in  the  house — good  fellows,  all  of  themt 
in  their  way,  but  worthless.  Checkers 
craved  companionship.  Often  he  sat  in 
a  poker  game  all  night  with  them,  in 
some  one  of  their  rooms,  or  "did  the 
Midway"  with  them,  ever  "mocking  the 
spirit  which  could  be  moved  to  such  a 
thing,"  but  sometimes  finding  in  it  a 
temporary  respite  from  the  bitter,  haunt 
ing  memories  of  the  past. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  follow,  and  un 
interesting  to  read,  the  devious  windings 
of  Checkers'  way  during  the  next  few 
months.  Hardened,  despondent,  and 
utterly  careless;  without  the  restraining 
influence  of  worthy  friends  or  home  ties 
to  soften  and  hold  him;  with  money,  but 
no  occupation;  time,  but  nothing  to  do 
with  it — little  wonder  is  it  that,  after  the 
great  White  City  finally  closed  its  gates, 
shutting  him  off  from  his  one  simple 
pleasure,  he  gradually  drifted  back  to 
the  stirring  scenes  of  his  youth — th< 
"races  and  the  betting-ring. 

The  history  of  every  one  of  the  hup 


222  CHECKERS 

dreds  of  thousands  of  men  who 
"played  the  races"  may  be  told  in  three 
short  words:  "They  went  broke" — 
sooner  or  later.  Generally  sooner  than 
later;  but  "they  went  broke." 

So  it  was  with  Checkers.  Good  infor 
mation,  careful  betting — playing  horses 
for  place  when  he  thought  they  eould 
win;  sometimes  not  risking  a  cent  all 
day;  watching  the  owners,  standing  in 
with  the  jockeys — all  this  put  him  nicely 
ahead  for  a  while,  and  staved  off  the  evil 
day  for  long.  But  the  eternal  law  of 
average  will  not  down,  and  the  percent 
age  in  the  betting-ring  is  absurdly 
against  the  bettor.  A  streak  of  hard 
luck;  a  slaughter  of  the  favorites;  a 
plunge ;  throwing  good  money  after  bad ; 
doubling  up  once  or  twice ;  a  final  coup. 
Pouf!  One  afternoon  Checkers  found 
himself  penniless. 

That  night  he  pawned  his  watch  for 
all  it  would  bring.  This  put  him  in 
funds  again,  but  gave  him  pause.  He 
decided  to  stop  gambling  and  go  to  work. 
But  the  morn'ng  paper  contained  a 


CHECKERS  223 

tempting  list  of  entries.  It  was  Satur 
day,  and  a  short  day. 

He  went  to  the  track  as  usual,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  third  race  was  "broke." 
Then  he  met  Murray  Jameson.  Both 
were  surprised.  Checkers  told  him  his 
story,  and  borrowed  ten  dollars.  Mur 
ray  lost  fifty  more  by  playing  Checkers' 
tips,  against  his  own  better  judgment. 
Murray  was  "sore" — Checkers  apolo 
getic.  This  was  his  first  experience  as 
a  tout.  After  that  he  picked  up  a  pre 
carious  living,  selling  whatever  articles 
of  value  he  possessed,  one  after  another, 
until  he  had  left  but  the  diamond  star  he 
had  given  Pert  as  a  wedding  gift,  and  a 
scanty  wardrobe. 

When  necessity  caused  him  to  part 
with  the  star  he  forswore  the  races,  and 
for  two  full  weeks  conscientiously 
sought  for  legitimate  employment.  But 
Chicago  was  filled  with  idle  hands,  which 
the  closing  of  the  Fair  months  before 
had  left  there  stranded.  Everything  was 
overcrowded.  Business  was  dead,  and 
his  search  was  unavailing.  Then  he 


224  CHECKERS 

took  up  "touting"  as  a  profession.  He 
rotated  between  the  various  "merry  go- 
rounds,"  which  were  open  all  seasons  of 
the  year.  The  tout's  stock  devices — • 
the  "bank-roll"  game,  the  "phoney" 
ticket,  the  "jockey's  cousin"  —  he 
worked  with  better  success  than  most; 
but,  as  a  rule,  his  method  was  simple. 
He  sought  the  acquaintance  of  such  as 
he  thought  might  be  "persuaded,"  and 
by  showing  confidence  where  they  were 
doubtful,  knowledge  where  their  own 
was  lacking,  he  usually  managed  to  get 
some  four  or  five  men  to  make  bets  dur 
ing  the  day.  Those  who  won  were  grate 
ful,  and  generally  paid  him  well  for  his 
"information."  The  losers  got  an  ex 
planation  of  "how  it  was"  and  "a  sure 
thing  for  the  next." 

One  thing,  however,  must  be  said  for 
Checkers.  He  never  "touted"  a  horse 
unless  he  thought  it  had  a  best  chance 
of  winning.  That  is,  if  there  were  five 
horses  in  a  race,  and  Checkers  had  five 
men  "on  his  string,"  he  never  descended 
to  the  common  practice  of  getting 


CHECKERS  225 

each  one  of  the  five  to  bet  on  a  different 
horse,  and  thus  "land  a  sure  winner. " 

All  five  were  certain  to  have  the  same 
chance,  and  to  stand  or  fall  upon  Check 
ers'  judgment. 

Some  weeks  later  it  was  that  I  first 
met  him,  at  Washington  Park,  Derby 
Day.  He  told  me  afterward  that  the 
minute  he  saw  me  he  knew  me  for  a 
"mark"  and  tried  to  "get  next." 

Yet,  for  all,  Checkers  was  not  innately 
bad.  He  was  weak,  I  '11  admit,  and 
cruelly  mistaken;  but  he  had  a  simple, 
lovable  nature,  and  a  natural  longing 
for  higher  things.  A  case  in  point:  I 
learned  by  chance  that  he  never  missed 
a  Sunday  at  church  since  the  death  of 
his  wife.  He  had  no  predilection,  and  I 
espied  him  one  day  in  my  own  sanctuary. 
When  questioned  about  it  he  told  me 
these  facts,  and  confessed  to  the  pleas- 
ure  he  found  in  going. 

"I  do  n't  know,"  he  said;  "I  always 
enjoy  it.  It 's  quiet  and  cool ;  every 
body  's  well  dressed,  and  I  like  to  sit 
there,  close  my  eyes,  think  over  my 


226  CHECKERS 

troubles,  and  listen  to  the  music.  And 
then,  again" — here  his  voice  grew  soft — 
"I  've  a  feeling  that  it  pleases  Pert  to 
know  that  I  'm  there.  She  liked  me  to 
go  to  church,  and  I  think  she  knows  it 
now  when  I  go;  do  n't  you?  I  would  n't 
take  a  great  deal  of  money  and  think 
that  she  did  n't  know." 

What  Pert  must  have  thought  of  his 
actions  weekdays  was  perhaps  a  fair 
question;  but  it  was  one  that  I  had  the 
heart  not  to  ask.  And  so  it  went  on ;  my 
efforts  to  get  him  a  position  and  reform 
him  ending  in  nothing,  as  I  have  pre 
viously  related. 

After  the  big  meeting  closed  Checkers 
reached  his  lowest  ebb.  It  was  during 
these  days  that  he  made  my  office  a  loaf 
ing  place.  I  suppose  that  for  six  weeks 
I  practically  supported  him,  lending  him 
two  or  three  dollars  at  a  time,  to  "square 
his  room  rent,"  "get  out  his  overcoat," 
"pay  a  doctor's  bill,"  "play  a  good 
thing,"  and  heaven  knows  what  not — 
each  time  assuring  him  that  I  positively 
would  not  succumb  again,  but  regularly 


CHECKERS  227 

cioing-  so.  Still,  I  never  begrudged  it 
A  couple  of  hours  with  him  was  worth  a 
few  dollars  at  any  time.  I  divided  the 
expense  between  my  amusement  and 
charity  accounts;  and,  in  truth, when  with 
him  I  never  could  tell  whether  pleasure  or 
compassion  had  the  upper  hand  with  me. 
I  have  tried  to  set  down  with  some 
succinctness  the  major  part  of  his  ex 
periences  as  I  heard  them;  but  I  fear 
they  have  greatly  lost,  in  the  telling, 
that  delicious  flavor  of  originality  which 
Checkers'  person,  voice,  and  manner 
gave  to  them  as  I  heard  them  piecemeal. 
Many  of  his  sayings,  when  repeated  after 
ward  by  Murray  or  me,  scarcely  caused 
a  smile,  while  coming  from  him  they  had 
seemed  to  us  excruciatingly  funny.  .  But 
I  believe  the  secret  was  this — he  never 
seemed  to  say  anything  with  the  primary 
idea  of  being  funny.  He  always  looked 
up  with  genuine  surprise  when  his  listen 
ers  laughed,  and  only  joined  them,  when 
the  mirth  was  infectious,  by  deepening  a 
little  the  cynical  curves  at  either  corner 
of  his  expressive  mouth. 


228  CHECKERS 

For  two  weeks  I  missed  him  On  a 
morning  of  the  third  he  came  in  with  a 
look  of  happiness  on  his  face.  "I  've 
got  a  job,"  he  said,  simply.  I  wrung 
^is  hand. 

"Where?"  I  asked. 

"With  Mr.  Richmond." 

Richmond  was  one  of  my  friends.  He 
was  a  partner  in  a  wholesale  paper-house. 
As  a  boy  Checkers  had  worked  in  a 
paper-house  and  knew  the  stock.  As  a 
consequence  he  had  been  after  Rich 
mond,  whom  he  had  met  through  me,  to 
give  him  a  position.  Richmond  liked 
him,  and,  when  an  opportunity  offered, 
he  sent  for  him  and  put  him  to  work  in 
the  stock.  At  the  end  of  two  weeks  he 
determined  to  give  Checkers  a  chance 
cpon  the  road.  So  Checkers  was  going 
out  that  night,  and  had  come  to  say 
good-bye.  I  was  delighted,  you  may  be 
sure.  I  gave  him  good  advice,  and  bade 
him  Godspeed.  A  few  days  later  I  re 
ceived  this  characteristic  letter,  dated 
from  some  little  town  in  Kansas: 


CHECKERS  229 

•DEAR  MR.  PRESTON: 

"  I  'm  here  doing  a  stage-coach  business- 
straining  the  leaders  of  my  legs,  hustlin'.  If 
trade  keeps  up  I  '11  have  coin  to  melt  when  I 
get  home,  and  you  bet  I  '11  melt  it.  The  food 
out  here  would  poison  a  dog.  I  ain't  got  the 
health  to  go  against  it.  I  've  been  sick  ever  since 
I  left  Chicago,  anyhow,  on  account  of  MurraJ 
Jameson.  I  met  him  at  the  depot  the  night  I 
left.  He  had  a  box  of  cigars  he  said  a  friend 
of  his  brought  him  from  Mexico.  He  gave  me 
a  handful.  I  got  on  the  train,  and  got  busy 
with  one  —  I  like  to  croaked.  Strong  1 ! !  Oh, 
no — it  was  n't  strong!  Drop  one  of  them  in  a 
can  of  dynamite  and  it 's  ten  to  one  it  would 
'  do  *  the  can.  Start  a  '  Mexican '  and  a  piece  of 
Limburger  in  a  short  dash,  it 's  a  hundred  to 
one  you  'd  need  a  searchlight  to  find  the  Lim 
burger.  I  've  switched  to  cigarettes. 

"  I  got  in  here  at  six  to-night,  and  I  'm  going 
to  get  away  at  one.  After  supper  (Supper  1 
I'll  tell  you  about  that  later!)  I  went  over  to  the 
only  shanty  in  the  place  that  looked  like  a 
Store,  and  opened  the  door.  There  were  a  lot 
of  '  Jaspers '  sitting  around  the  stove,  chewing 
tobacco  and  swapping  lies.  I  asked  the  guy 
that  got  up  when  I  came  in  where  he  kept  his 
stock  (he  had  nothing  in  sight).  He  lighted  a 
lantern,  walked  me  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and 


230  CHECKERS 

showed  me  four  '  mooley-cows '  —  say,  I  was 
sore.  But  I  'm  square  with  him — I  gave  him  a 
couple  of '  Mexicans.' 

"  That  supper!  Well,  say,  it  was  a  '  peach.' 
(I  had  an  egg  this  morning  and  it  was  a  '  bird.') 
I  sat  down  to  the  table  with  a  St.  Louis  shce- 
man.  We  turned  the  things  down  one  by  one 
as  they  came  in.  A  few  soda-crackers  on  the 
table  saved  our  lives.  We  tried  the  griddle- 
cakes.  They  were  pieces  of  scorched,  greasy 
dough,  as  big  as  pie-plates.  There  were  a 
couple  of  '  Rubes '  at  the  other  end  of  the  table; 
a  short,  little,  fat  one,  and  a  long,  lean,  thin  one. 
We  shoved  the  cakes  on  down  their  way.  They 
ate  their  own  and  ours,  and  ordered  more.  I 
bet  the  shoe-man  five  on  the  fat  one.  We  or 
dered  more  ourselves  and  pushed  them  along. 
The  thin  man  finally  began  to  weaken,  but  the 
fat  one  got  stronger  every  minute.  My  friend 
said  I  was  'pullin','  and  wanted  to  draw  the 
bet;  but  I  made  him  'give  up.' 

"  Just  as  we  were  going,  the  waitress  came 
up  with  a  grouch  on,  stuck  out  her  chin,  and 
says, '  Pie  ?  ' 

" '  Is  it  compulsory  ? '  says  the  shoe-man. 

" '  Naw;  it 's  mince.' 

"'Well,  that  lets  us  out,'  he  says,  and  we 
skipped." 


CHECKERS  231 

Later— 

"  I  got  interrupted  here.  The  beys  wanted 
me  to  play  'high-five '  until  train-time;  I  picked 
up  a  little  'perfumery  money,'  and  came  up 
here  to  Kansas  City  xo  spend  Saturday  nighi 
and  Sunday. 

"  There 's  a  lot  of  '  rummies '  I  used  to  know 
hanging  around  here,  'broke.'  They  've  all '  got 
their  hand  out.'  One  of  them  made  me  a  talk 
last  night  for  enough  to  get  to  St.  Louis  on  — 
said  he  '  must  get  there.' 

"'Well,'  I  says,  'try  the  trucks;  how  are  you 
on  swinging  under  ? ' 

" '  Yes,'  he  says, '  you  're  in  luck,  and  makin' 
a  swell  front,  with  your  noisy  duds  and  plenty 
of  money,  but  it 's  a  wonder  you  would  n't  '  let 
your  blood  gush '  a  little  when  you  see  an  old 
friend  of  yours  in  trouble.' 

"  That  was  a  new  one  on  me,  and  I  '  loosened.' 
Well,  perhaps  he  '11  do  me  a  good  turn  some 
time. 

"  Now,  I  must  close.  I  see  dinner 's  ready. 
There 's  a  big,  fat  guy  has  been  beating  me  of' 
in  a  race  for  a  seat  I  want  in  the  dining-room. 
I  '11 '  put  it  over  him  a  neck '  to-day  for  the  chair. 
The  cross-eyed  fairy  that  waits  on  that  table  can 
dig  up  cream  while  the  rest  of  the  waitresses 
are  looking  around  to  see  if  there 's  any  skimmed 
milk  in  the  joint. 


232  CHECKERS 

"Yours  till  death  —  and  as  long  after  as  they 
need  me  at  the  morgue. 

"  EDWARD  CAMPBELL." 

Occasionally  I  met  Richmond  and 
asked  him  how  Checkers  was  doing. 
"Not  badly,"  was  the  usual  answer. 
"He  is  handicapped,  though,"  ex 
plained  Richmond  one  day,  "by  not 
thoroughly  knowing  our  goods  and  those 
of  other  houses.  After  this  trip  I  shall 
put  him  to  work  in  the  store  again  for  a 
while." 

But  this  never  occurred.  Either  by 
mistake  or  through  a  serious  error  in 
judgment,  Checkers  sold  an  unusually 
large  bill  at  an  absurdly  low  figure.  This 
brought  a  sharp  reproof  from  the  house, 
which  he  answered  cavalierly.  His  re 
call  and  prompt  dismissal  followed. 

A  month  elapsed  before  I  saw  him, 
He  had  been  trying  to  get  another  posi 
tion  before  coming  to  me,  for  his  pride 
was  lowered.  One  morning  he  came  in 
looking  careworn  and  threadbare.  I 
welcomed  him  cordially,  as  usual.  But 
though  neither  of  us  referred  to  his  re^ 


CHECKERS  233 

cent  misfortune,  it  caused  an  evident 
embarrassment  in  his  manner.  After  a 
few  moments'  desultory  conversation  he 
drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket.  "Read 
that,"  he  said  simply,  handing  it  to  me- 
With  difficulty  I  read  what  seemed  to 
be  a  letter  from  Mr.  Barlow,  his  father- 
in-law.  In  effect  it  set  forth  that  he  was 
now  alone.  Mrs.  Barlow  was  dead,  and 
her  last  dying  request  had  been  that  he 
find  Checkers  and  restore  to  him  his  own. 
This  he  had  solemnly  promised  to  do. 
He  complained  that  he  was  "poorly" 
himself,  and  expected  to  be  carried  off 
at  any  time,  with  "a  misery  in  his  chest. " 
And  he  went  on  to  say  that  if  Checkers 
had  not  married  again  (perish  the 
thought!),  and  would  come  back  and  live 
with  him  and  take  care  of  him,  he  would 
make  him  his  heir  to  the  old  place  as 
well,  and  to  what  little  else  he  had  to 
leave.  He  "did  n't  bear  no  grudge"  for 
the  loss  of  the  house,  as  things  had 
turned  out — he  "liked  a  lad  of  sperrit. " 
However,  whether  he  found  Checkers  or 
not,  "the  preacher  and  them  whited  sep- 


23>  CHECKERS 

ulchers"  at  the  church  "should  nevel 
finger  a  cent  of  what  he  left."  There 
followed  a  tirade  which  seemed  to  show 
that  the  church  people  had  made  it  hot 
for  the  old  man  after  Checkers'  depart 
ure,  and  doubtless  more  so  after  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Barlow. 

"What  do  you  think?"  asked  Checkers 
as  I  finished. 

"Think!  I  think  it 's  the  best  of  good 
fortune." 

"Yes;  with  a  horrible  string  tied  to  it. 
Of  course  I  want  my  place  back;  but 
I  'd  rather  be  hung  than  go  back  to 
Clarksville." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes;  everything  is;  what  is  n't  'stuff' 
is  nonsense.  But,  say,  the  funniest 
thing  of  all  is  that  he  seems  to  think  I 
burnt  up  the  house.  How  do  you  sup 
pose  he  got  such  a  notion?"  This  with 
a  laughable  expression  of  innocence. 

"Isn't  it  possible,  Checkers,"  I  said, 
"that  this  letter  is  a  ruse  to  get  you  down 
there  and  have  you  arrested  for  arson?" 

He  thought  a  moment.     "No,"  he  re- 


CHECKERS  235 

plied;  "I  hardly  think  so.  No  judge  or 
jury  down  there  would  convict  me,  any 
how,  when  they  heard  the  facts — still, 
it 's  about  his  size.  If  I  had  a  little 
money  I  would  n't  need  to  be  in  a  hurry. 
There  's  some  friends  of  mine  got  a  bot- 
tled-up  *good  thing'  they  're  going  to 
'turn  loose'  next  week,  that 's  a  'mortal' 
—'Bessie  Bisland' — she  '11  back  in.  If 
I  had  about  fifty  I  'd  win  a  lot  of  money, 
quit  gamblin',  and  wait  till  the  old  man 
croaked. 

"Checkers!" 

*'Still,  that  might  be  risky;  these  old 
guys  'take  notice*  again  scand'lous  quick. 
While  I  was  foolin'  around  some  Ar 
kansas  fairy  might  get  in  and  nail  down 
my  little  job." 

"Yes,"  I  laughed ;  "upon  all  accounts, 
the  quicker  you  get  there  the  better.'5 

Checkers  closed  one  eye  and  fixed  the 
other  on  a  spot  in  the  ceiling.  "I  won 
der,"  he  murmured,  "how  the  walking  is 
between  here  and  Clarksville?" 

"Checkers."  I  said,  "are  you  broke 
again?" 


236  CHECKERS 

"If  you  can  find  the  price  of  a  car 
ride  on  me,  I  Ml  give  it  to  you — and  I  '11 
help  you  hunt." 

"Checkers,  your  acquaintance  has 
been  expensive  for  me,"  I  said  soberly. 
"I  suppose  now  you  want  me  to  give  you 
the  money  to  take  you  to  Clarksville. " 

"Mr.  Preston!"  he  exclaimed,  with  an 
earnest  expression,  "I  don't  want  you  to 
give  me  anything.  All  the  money  I  've 
had  from  you  has  been  borrowed.  I  've 
kept  a  strict  tab  on  it,  and  I  intend  to 
repay  it.  My  farm  down  there  is  worth 
$20,000;  when  I  get  that  back  I  '11  be 
'in  the  heart  of  town.'  But  I  don't 
want  to  go  back  looking  like  a  'hobo,' 
and  I  've  got  to  have  some  money  'to 
make  a  front  with.'  I  could  write  the 
old  man  that  I  'm  flat,  and  get  him  to 
send  me  some  money  easy  enough.  But 
that  would  give  him  the  upper  hand  of 
me,  and  queer  me  on  the  start.  If  I 
drop  in  unexpectedly,  looking  as  though 
I  had  money  to  throw  to  the  birds,  he  's 
Hkdy  to  'unbelt'  right  away,  and  I  '11 


CHECKERS  237 

send  you  your  stuff  the  minute  I  get 
it." 

Well,  the  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  I 
advanced  to  Checkers  what  he  needed — 
within  reason.  He  consumed  nearly  a 
week  in  making  his  preparations;  but  in 
the  mean  time  I  suggested  that  he  ad 
vise  Mr.  Barlow  and  Judge  Martin  of  his 
coming.  When  the  day  finally  arrived 
he  insisted  that  I  dine  with  him  before 
his  departure;  but  I  had  an  engagement, 
and  was  forced  to  refuse.  We  com 
promised,  however,  on  a  modest  lunch 
eon,  during  which  I  advised  him  earn 
estly  and  well. 

"Now,  Checkers,"  I  said,  before  bid 
ding  him  farewell,  "you  are  about  to  be 
gin  a  new  life;  be  a  man,  settle  down, 
and  make  some  good  resolutions." 

"I  have,"  he  said.  "It '11  take  me  a 
year  to  live  down  those  I  have  made  al 
ready.  Just  think  of  Bessie  Bisland 
running  this  afternoon  and  me  with  not 
a  nickel  on  her." 

"And,  Checkers,"  I  said,  "you  must 


238  CHECKERS 

school  yourself  to  endure  what  maj 
come,  however  unpleasant.  Treat  the 
old  man  well — it  won't  be  for  long;  and 
remember  what  it  means  to  you  in  the 
future.  When  you  get  your  property, 
whether  soon  or  late,  keep  it,  or  rent  it, 
and  live  within  your  income." 

"You  bet  I  will,"  he  replied,  "and  I 
believe  I  '11  hire  three  or  four  little 
sleuths  to  go  round  with  me  all  the  time, 
and  see  that  nobody  'does'  me." 

"Have  Judge  Martin  advise  you,"  I 
said.  "He  doubtless  knows  the  law; 
and  write  to  me  when  you  are  settled — I 
shall  be  interested."  I  clasped  his  hand 
warmly  in  one  of  mine,  and  rested  my 
other  upon  his  shoulder.  "And  now 
good-bye,  my  boy,"  I  said;  "you  have 
had  a  long  run  of  hard  luck,  and  I  am 
glad  that  fortune  is  about  to  smile  upon 
you  again.  Quit  gambling;  watch  your 
opportunities  and  make  the  best  of  them 
as  they  come.  Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Preston.  What  you 
say  is  no  'song  without  words,'  and  I  'U 


CHECKERS  239 

remember  it.  I  have  had  hard  luck,  and, 
no  matter  what  comes,  I  can  never  be 
as  happy  as  I  've  been  in  the  past.  But 
we  all  have  our  troubles,  and  I  '11  try  to 
make  the  best  of  things,  like  the  old 
crone  who  had  only  two  teeth,  but  she 
said  'Thank  God,  they  hit!'  Good-bye." 
Again  we  shook  hands  and  parted 

silently,  taking  opposite  directions. 
*        *        #        #        # 

Ten  days  have  passed,  and  I  have  not 
heard  from  Checkers — it  is  doubtless 
still  a  little  early. 

The  morning  after  we  parted  I 
chanced  to  see  in  the  paper  that  "Bessie 
Bisland"  "also  ran."  It  is  quite  as 
well,  therefore,  that  Checkers  did  not 
defer  his  going,  but  went  that  night. 


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THE  KING  OF  DIAMONDS 

"  Verily,  Mr.  Tracy  is  a  prince  of  story-tellers.  His 
charm  is  a  little  hard  to  describe,  but  it  is  as  definite  as 
that  of  a  rainbow.  The  reader  is  carried  along  by  the 
robust  imagination  of  the  author. — San  Francisco  Exam 
iner. 


GROSSET    &     DUN  LAP,    NEW  YORK 


NEW    EDITIONS    IN    UNIFORM    BINDING 


WORKS  OF 

F.  MARION  CRAWFORD 

izmo,  Cloth,  each  75  cents,  postpaid 

VIA  CRUCIS  :  A   Romance  of  the  Second  Crusade. 

Illustrated  by  Louis  Loeb. 

Mr.  Crawford  has  manifestly  brought  his  best  qualities 
os  a  student  of  history,  and  his  finest  resources  as  a  master 
af  an  original  and  picturesque  style,  to  bear  upon  this  story. 

MR.  ISAACS  :  A  Tale  of  Modern  India. 

Under  an  unpretentious  title  we  have  here  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  novels  that  has  been  given  to  the  world. 

THE  HEART  OF  ROME. 

The  legend  of  a  buried  treasure  under  the  walls  of  the 
palace  of  Conti,  known  to  but  few,  provides  the  frame 
work  for  many  exciting  incidents. 

SARACINESCA 

A  graphic  picture  of  Roman  society  in  the  last  days  of 
the  Pope's  temporal  power. 

SANT'  ILARIO  j  A  Sequel  to  Saracinesca. 

A  singularly  powerful  and  beautiful  story,  fulfilling  every 
requirement  of  artistic  fiction. 

IN  THE  PALACE  OF  THE  KING  :  A  Love  Story 

*  of  Old  Madrid.     Illustrated. 

The  imaginative  richness,  the  marvellous  ingenuity  of 
plot,  and  the  charm  of  romantic  environment,  rank  this 
novel  among  the  great  creations. 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,    NEW  YORK 


New  and  Cheaper  Editions  of  Books  by 

?• 

Mr.  Hamilton  Mabie 

I2mo,  cloth,  75  cents  per  copy,  postpaid 


PARABLES   OF  LIFE 

Poetic  in  conception,  vivid  and  true  in  imagery,  del* 
cately  clear  and  pure  in  diction,  these  little  pieces   belong 
to  Mr.  Mabie's  finest  and  strongest  work. — HENRY  VAN 
DYKE. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

Poet,  Dramatiit,  Man 

Professor  F.  H.  Stoddard  speaks  or  this  work  at 
*'  almost  unique  in  Shakespeare  literature,  in  it  that  is  a 
continuous  and  thoroughly  worked  out  study  of  the  whole 
personality  of  Shakespeare." 

A  BOOK  OF  OLD  ENGLISH  LOVE  SONGS 

1     Edited  by  Hamilton  Mabie.    Superbly  illustrated  with 
Drawings  and  Decorations  by  George  Wharton  Edwards. 

One  of  the  daintiest  specimens  of  bookmaking,  designed  to  serve 
both  as  a  gift  book  and  work  of  reference. 

A  BOOK  OF  OLD  ENGLISH  BALLADS 

Edited  by  Hamilton  Mabie.  Superbly  illustrated  with 
Drawings  and  Decorations  by  George  Wharton  Edwards. 

"The  aim  has  been  to  bring,  within  moderate  compass,  a  collec 
tion  of  the  songs  of  the  people. —  Extract  from  Introduction. 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP,    PUBLISHERS 
52   DUANE  STREET       ::       ::      NEW   YORK 


Date  Due 


PRINTED   IN    U.S.A. 


CAT.   NO.  24    161 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  394  306    3 


